How it Came to Be
by Birchwood29
Summary: A Growing Up Potter prequel. Tells the story of how Harry and Ginny got together.
1. Chapter 1

*A/N: See author's note below either before or after reading story for any questions. Always feel free to email me with complaints, questions or anything else. :) Hope you enjoy...

"Hermione…blue bra or black bra?" I ask, turning to a bored looking Hermione. She doesn't look up and I cluck impatiently. "Hermione! Please focus!"

She looks up and gives me an annoyed glance. "Why do you care which bra you're wearing, Ginny? Isn't this a first date? Isn't that a bit improper?"

"Improper….Shrimpshopper," I said with a roll of my eyes. "I can't believe I don't have a single matching knicker set! I have to choose between my Quidditch knickers with all the holes in them, or the ones with the rip."

"Maybe it's time for some new knickers?" Hermione asks, not looking up from her book.

"Oh, hardy har har," I snap. She stays quiet until she can get a little dig in, then she's back to her book again, just like that. I swear. Some people.

Doesn't she realize the importance of tonight? This will be mine and Harry's first real date in over a year! This is the first date all couples go on. Our children will ask us what our first date was like. I can't tell them, Well, Mummy and Daddy went out to dinner and Mummy was in her holey underwear. That would be plain wrong!

Plus, Hermione should know more than anyone how much I've missed Harry. I've wanted this date more than I've ever wanted anything in my entire life. Even more than the breasts I was promised by Mum's bosom, but never got.

From the very moment the War ended, I waited. Patiently, of course. I had to be patient. I had to give him his time and his space and let him properly wrap his head around it. He certainly had a lot that he was going to be dealing with. The most important thing, however, was that Voldemort was dead and there was no longer the threat of him looming above our heads like a prat.

It was probably minutes after seeing Harry and knowing everything was okay, that I wanted to run to him, grab his arm and scream, "You promised! Remember? Now we can be together! LET'S BE TOGETHER!" But I knew that probably wasn't _quite_ what he wanted to hear at that moment. So, I waited.

Two whole weeks to be exact that I waited. It nearly drove me to madness. I saw him every single day of those two weeks. We would pass each other in the hallway, our shoulders awkwardly rubbing against one another and pretend as though it wasn't killing each other not to be together.

It was even more awkward than when we actually broke up. It was supposed to be awkward then. It was allowed to be awkward then. An entire year afterwards? Not so much.

I remember those first days after breaking up with Harry. It had been murder, but at least I didn't have to look at him every single day…until he came to the Burrow. Sitting across the table from him, pretending he never had his tongue down my throat and his hand up my shirt (at the same time, sometimes) was even worse. I felt like a liar and hypocrite to say, "Pass the salt, please, Harry," and act as though I didn't want to say, "Pass the salt, please, Harry, and pretend you've ever heard me moan, thank you."

A part of me expected him to saunter up to me in front of everyone, throw his arms around me and plant one hell of a kiss on me. The kiss of all kisses. The kiss I'd tell my children about. What I didn't expect he'd do is, as he's walking past me, sigh and pat me on the head before heading up to bed. Like a dog. He patted me on the head like I was a fucking dog. I nearly killed him then and there. I nearly pulled out my wand and killed him in front of my entire family. I would have laughed my happy ass to jail, too! It wasn't until Hermione confessed to me that he didn't think it was proper to try and start a relationship with me while he was living here. He thought it might give my parents the wrong idea about us. I didn't expect him to shag me at the table in the middle of breakfast, but I did expect him to be my sweet boyfriend again. He movied in with Remus and Tonks over two months ago, so I was beginning to think that perhaps that wasn't it, either.

And then, just when I was giving up all hope. Just when I was planning on becoming a spinster and living in the Burrow for the rest of my life, taking care of my parents and watching my siblings go off towards adult-hood, it happened. Harry sat down next to me on the couch one night. He let our legs touch for the first time in a year. He let his hand graze mine the first time in a year. He turned to me and, as the room slowed to a still and all sound left except for my heartbeat thumping a mile a minute, he said, "I'm in love with you, Ginny."

I felt my face split into the widest, silliest grin I could have possibly made. I must have looked like a frigging weirdo, but I didn't care. It felt as though my face was going to slice right down the middle from pure bliss. Those sweet, sweet words had just been uttered. Harry Potter had admitted his love and it involved my name and he was clenching my hand. He had never told me he loved me. I don't even know if I thought he did or not. I couldn't remember. All I knew was that he had said it.

"I love you, too," I finally managed after what felt like a lifetime.

A look of relief spread across his face and then he leaned over and he kissed me. It had been almost a year since we had kissed. It felt so glorious and so wonderful, I could have melted right into the couch, had it not been for his grip on my arm pulling me closer to him.

My immediate want was to go up to my room and just completely give in to the aching pulse going throughout my body, but I soon realized that Harry wasn't like that. When we were together, there were so few times that we were actually alone. There were so few times where I was able to get more than a chaste kiss out of him from Ron's watchful glaring. I so yearned to return to the only memory I have of actually going any further with him.

One day after we had finished studying and doing homework, we decided to take a walk around the grounds before dinner. The farther we walked from the castle, the fewer people we saw, until we were soon the only people around. We came to a stop and sat down in the cool grass. Like two magnets that get too close, we were suddenly stuck to each other.

When we were away from everyone else, when there were no watchful gazes lingering over our heads, it was so wonderful. And, I must admit, Harry would take control and lead things along in such a fantastic manner. All I had to do was kiss back.

Well, I'll just cut to the chase. He scooted his hand up my shirt a bit and I let out the most embarrassing sound in the entire world and he didn't break up with me. Well…until he broke up with me. Three days later. I still don't think it was a coincidence.

Anyway, soon after our kiss on the couch Harry asked me out on our second first date. I happy accepted. I spent the entire day trying on everything I owned.

Now, I have finally narrowed it down to a dress with little cap sleeves or a dress with little straps that kind of criss cross in the back. Well, they don't kind of crisscross. They do crisscross. God, I'm nervous.

I yank off my shorts and pull my dress up my body. The little cap sleeves rest on my shoulder. I twist and turn in the mirror, trying to find faults. They sleeves make my arms look a bit pudgy…which in turn makes my body look disproportionate. They color (lavender) is quite flattering on my body, though. It does not clash with my wild red hair, and that is a major plus.

"Hermione? Yay or nay?" I turn around to face her. I pull at the dress, trying desperately to get it to fit me just so.

Hermione glances up from her book again and rests her eyes on me.

"Very nice, Ginny," she says with a smile. "I like the color on you."

"Better than the black dress?" I ask, glancing down at it.

"Yes, I think so."

"Ok…" I turn back to the mirror and suck in a deep breath. I turn again to my side. "Well, do you like this bra or should I wear the push up bra?"

"What does the push up bra look like?" she asks.

"This." I press my boobs together and then up, making considerable cleavage.

"Oh dear Lord," she snaps. "Harry doesn't need to see all that!"

"What makes you think he hasn't?" I ask with a slight crook of my eyebrow.

Hermione fixes me with a filthy look and snaps, "He hasn't."

I sigh. She is such a know it all. Of course Harry hasn't seen them. Yet. He hasn't seen them yet.

"Ok. Purple dress, granny bra, holey knickers." I pause. "I'm changing."

"Into what?" Hermione asks, coming off of the bed to stand next to me.

"Something sexier," I reply.

Hermione sighs. "You look fine."

"I feel like my mother picked this outfit out for me," I say, pouting just a bit. I do not own any sexy clothing. I could never imagine my Mum buying me a black lace bra or even black knickers! She says they make me look like a Scarlet woman and my worth shouldn't be measured by the color of my knickers. Easy for her to say, though! She's been married since before the start of time to a man who simply adores her. I am starting fresh with a boy I am madly, deeply, truly in love with. If I do not feel comfortable, how can I have a good time?

"Ginny, trust me and believe me when I say what I am going to say." She twists me around to face her and I do so with raised and expectant eyebrows. "Harry would still like you if you gained a bunch of weight or if you got bald or if you went blind. He likes the person that you are, not what you're wearing! He would rather you look like this, which is beautiful, than boobs up to your chin and way too much make up. That isn't you and that isn't him. You're gorgeous and stuck in this body, so you mine as well get used to it."

I smile gratefully at her. She always knows the exact thing to say.

"Thank you, Hermione," I say, touching her shoulder.

"You're welcome." She picks up my brush. "Sit down. I'll brush your hair out."

"Okay."

I sit down in front of my mirror as Hermione takes her place in back of me. She slowly begins to brush my hair out with soft, gentle strokes.

She is very much like my sister. After the War ended, she and Ron got together almost immediately. I didn't ask for all the dirty details, but Hermione has blushingly admitted that they have "done it" already. Surprisingly, I was not as grossed out as I imagined I would have been. I'm incredibly happy that they have finally gotten together. It was about damn time.

It did make it a bit hard, though, when Harry and I were trying to sort out our own relationship. They did not flaunt it in front of our faces (for that would be grounds for a beating), but they would do sweet little stuff that broke my heart. Hermione would gaze lovingly at him from across the table, or plant a kiss at Ron's temple when they passed each other. Ron would pick her flowers from the garden and give them to her, or take her for an after dinner walk by the lake.

These things were things Harry and I were supposed to do to each other and for each other. Instead, we were tip-toeing around one another as though to come too close to contact would cause a bomb to go off in the house. I know that I had to wait. I knew what he was going through and I was willing to wait for as long as possible, I'm just glad that it is finally happening.

I do not know what will come of this date. On one side of the spectrum, it could be a complete disaster and we never see each other again. However, on the complete other side, it could go wonderfully. It could be the last first date I ever have.

"There," Hermione says. "Beautiful. Want me to do your make up?"

I smile. "Yeah."

My hair is now hanging down past my shoulders in a dark crimson sheath. It looks silky and shiny and absolutely beautiful. It never looks like this when I do my hair. I let it get all mangled and messy.

Hermione nudges me. "Push your chair back a bit, please," she says and nudges me again.

I slide back and she comes to stand in front of me with a Muggle make up brush in her hand.

"Lean your head back just a bit," she says, her voice soft.

I comply and close my eyes. I feel the brush move over my eyelids and feel my body lose some of its tension. I feel it roll from the knot in my neck, down my shoulders, down my back, down my legs and out my toes.

"Ginny! Harry's here!" Mum calls from down stairs.

Suddenly the tension comes screaming back, running up my toes, legs, back, shoulder and landing back in its proper place at the base of my neck. My head snaps up and I feel the brush in Hermione's hand accidentally drag across my eyelid down onto my face.

"Oh, shoot! Don't move, Ginny!" Hermione says.

"He's here! I'm not ready and he's here!"

"Calm down! Let me get that purple off of your face."

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," I hiss. My legs start bounding around in the chair and my palms begin to sweat. "Does my face look alright?"

"Your face looks fine, like it has for the past eighteen, almost nineteen, years." Hermione rolls her eyes. "Goodness, was I this batty when I went out with Ron?"

"Worse, remember?" I snap. "I had to grab you a bag to breathe into!"

"Oh, shh!" Hermione snaps. "There. You're done."

I look past her to stare at myself in the mirror. My mouth drops open a bit. She's done something around my eyes to make the brown stand out a bit more. My lips look nice and plump and my freckles do not look as angry.

"Thanks, Hermione!" I say with a happy smile. "I look gorgeous."

She gives me a satisfied smile. "Of course you do. Now hurry up. Put some shoes on."

"Fuck!"

"What now?"

"Shoes!"

"Yeah…And?"

"I never thought about shoes!"

"For the love of Merlin! Just pick out a pair! He won't be staring at your feet!"

I run to my closet and throw it open. Shoes and clothes and other various things are scattered about in a haphazard manner. I bite my lip and look for my white sandals. I find one almost instantly, but the other hides. I rummage through a pile of clothes until I find it.

I sit on my bed and fasten both buckles. I run my hand up my legs to ensure they are smooth. I life my arm up to smell my armpits and then cup my hands and breath into them to check my breath.

"Are you all set?" Hermione asks.

"Yes. I think so."

"Come on then."

I grab my little white purse which is packed full with mints (just in case I have something garlicy or gross at the restaurant) and follow Hermione down the stairs. My heart is thudding wildly into my chest. I look satisfactory on the outside, and if it weren't for my gross, holey knickers, I'd feel a little better.

"Hi, Harry," Hermione says.  
I have only a split second to prepare myself for the sight of him before Hermione steps down the last step and I am forced to look up at him.

I haven't seen him in about two days. His hair is messy as always, but it looks as though he tried a bit to tame it. He's wearing a nice button down shirt and dark jeans. My breath hitches slightly when I see him.

I walk down the last step and come to stand across from him. Mum and Dad are standing by the fireplace and Hermione and Ron are standing in the doorway of the kitchen, pretending not to be listening.

"Hey," I say, breathless. Harry looks absolutely dashing. My hand immediately goes to my hair to see if it is still smooth and soft. If all goes as plan tonight, Harry's hands should be lost in my hair tonight.

"Hi." His faces breaks out into a bashful grin that makes my stomach jump, as though I missed the last stair. "You look…gorgeous. Beautiful."

_Don't tell him you've got holey knickers on, don't tell him you've got holey knickers on, don't_—

"I've got holey knickers on," I blurt out. I instantly feel my face turn a bright red. Another classic case of verbal diarrhea on my part.

Mum makes a little noise of disbelief in the back of her throat, throws me a filthy look, as though that were meant to be a come on to Harry and says, "Well, you two better get going. Don't want to be late."

"Right," I say, moving forward slightly.

"I won't have her back late," Harry informs my parents.

"It's fine," Mum says with a warm smile. "No curfew tonight, loves."

I give my mother a look of disbelief. Just two days ago when I wanted to go into Diagon Alley to get a new outfit (and some new bloody knickers!), Mum had a fit!

"You absolutely can NOT go into Diagon Alley alone!" She had yelled, flinging dishes into the sink. I jumped and gave her an incredulous look.

"Mum, I'll be back before lunch! I promise! Cross my heart and hope to die!" I said, crossing my heart for emphasis. She simply threw me a furious glare.

"And what happens if some drunken bum on the streets corners you and forces himself upon you?" she asked. She looked terrified at the thought.

"A drunken bum? In Diagon Alley? At eleven o'clock on a Thursday morning?" I asked. I could have almost laughed at where her mind immediately went. "Well, I guess I'd take out my sword and stab him and turn him into fairy dust, or whatever the hell drunken bums turn into in La La Land where he apparently lives!"

"Watch your mouth!" Mum snapped.

"I won't be raped buying a new dress, Mum," I snapped back. "I have to go. This is very important to me."

She was just about to cave in (or so I thought) when Charlie walked in.

"Hey, Mum. Hey, Gin." Charlie came into the kitchen, fresh from the shower and grabbed an apple. He bit into it and leaned against the counter. "What?" he asked Mum.

I, too, wanted to ask Mum why she was looking at Charlie like that. She had a huge grin on her face and when she turned to me, I could see a satisfied look in her eye.

"Charlie doesn't have anything to do this afternoon, do you, Charlie?" she asked sweetly.

He shrugged. "Not that I can think of off the top of my head." His mood changed. "Why?" He was suddenly defensive.

"Ginny wants to go into Diagon Alley and I feel uncomfortable with her going alone," Mum said. "Want to go with her?"

I wildly shook my head no, and tried to warn Charlie while Mum had her attention directed at him.

"Uh, yeah, I guess so. I don't have anything else to—What are you trying to say, Ginny?"

I gave a growl of annoyance. "Nothing." I folded my arms moodily. "Charlie, please tell Mum that I do not need to be followed around Diagon Alley like a child!"

"I think Mum has a point, Ginny," Charlie replied. I could have slapped him in the face. "You'd be better off if I came with you. I'll even take you out to lunch."

"Really, Charlie, I don't need—"

"Ginny." Mum's voice cut through like a knife. "Go with Charlie or do not go at all." She raised one eyebrow. "If you can't buy something in front of your brother then perhaps you shouldn't be buying it at all."

I felt my cheeks tinge up with my anger and embarrassment. Mum does my laundry, so of course she knows all about my holey knickers.

The long and the short of it was that I spent the entire afternoon in Diagon Alley walking past plenty of shops were I could get sexy knickers, and had to pretend I didn't want them.

However, I must not complain. It could be worse tonight. Mum and Dad could have insisted that I be home by ten or eleven. As long as Harry has me home by a reasonable time, I think perhaps this summer may get a little more interesting.

"Ready?" Harry asks, inching towards me.

"Yes," I say. I cringe at the way my voice sounds. I can't seem to make it sound normal and instead find myself sounding rather out of breath and flustered. It doesn't help that Harry's hand is suddenly encasing mine and I'm blushing like I am twelve years old again.

"Night, Mum. Night, Dad," I say, turning back to them with a smile. Dad gives me a nod and a wave and then puts his arm around Mum. Mum looks as though she may start crying and I begin to walk out of the house a bit faster.

When we get out into the warm, damp summer air, I turn to him briefly. Feeling my eyes upon him, he turns to me, gives me a sort of embarrassed smile and then says, "I thought we could go for dinner in Diagon Alley?"

"That sounds lovely," I reply. "Did you want to go back inside and Floo?"

"No, it's alright. We can Apparate together. Piggy-back style." Harry pauses when I frown. "It's not like…sexual or anything."

I make a noise in the back of my throat. "Huh?"

"Nothing, nothing!" Harry's neck and cheeks are turning red. He holds out his hand. "We'll Apparate together."

"You know how to?" I ask. "Like really know how to? You won't drop my hand somewhere over London or leave half of me behind, will you?"

"I'll try not to!" Harry says.

"I was kidding," I reply.

"Oh." He gives a short laugh. "Ok."

I take his hand and feel my feet lift off the ground. Our shoulders knock into each other's and soon enough we come to land (quite awkwardly) in the middle of Diagon Alley. And when I say land, I mean Harry lands on his feet and I trip over my own feet and land flat on my stomach. I feel my dress fly up past my bum and before I can fix it myself, Harry yanks it back down and brings me up onto my two feet.

My face is burning red as I say, "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, thank you," I say. "Gosh, that was embarrassing."

"Don't be embarrassed," Harry says quickly. He looks me directly in the eye and gives me a comforting smile. "I've done stuff like that more times than I can count. I had my own bed in the school infirmary, remember?"

I give a small, embarrassed laugh and reply, "Yes, I remember."

We walk down the crowded streets in relative silence. Harry does not mention the holey underwear, for which I am grateful, but I know that he saw it. I can't stop replaying that moment when I fell and my dress hiked up. I cringe every time. Harry must think I am some sort of disgusting person who never buys new knickers and—

"Gin?"

"Huh?" I turn to him suddenly.

"We're here," he says.

"Oh. Right. Okay."

"I've never been in here before. It got good reviews as far as I can tell…"

He hovers for a brief moment before opening the door for me.

I feel Harry's hand on one of my shoulders as he leads me into the dim restaurant. We go to the woman behind a little podium. There is a small light bent over a book with scribbled names.

"Hello," Harry says to her. "Black, part of two."

"Black…Black…Ah, yes. Here you are." She grabs two menus from next to her and walks around the podium. Within a second she sizes up my outfit before turning on her heel and leading us through the room. I self consciously glance down at my dress and wipe some dirt off of it. I notice my knee is skinned. Apparently the burn of humiliation is greater than the burn of uprooted skin.

"You didn't use your real name?" I ask quietly to Harry as the waitress walks off.

"I didn't want this turning into a circus."

"I see." I give him a little smile. "That was probably best."

I glance around at the people around us. They are all talking quietly amongst themselves, completely oblivious that they will now always be a part of my memories. I will always remember this moment, sitting across from Harry with my skinned knee and rumpled dress. The way he is looking across the table at me is not something I'll soon forget, either.

He opens his mouth to speak, but closes it as someone approaches the table.

A waiter comes up to us. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

"Champagne," Harry says, giving me a quick look. "Is that alright?"

"Mhmm," I say, nodding. "Lovely."

"Great, I'll be right back." The waiter walks off and Harry and I fall into horrible silence.

I stare across from him and desperately try to think of something to say. There are no topics of conversation that come to my mind except WHY IS THIS SO AWKWARD WITH YOU?

I can not understand why Harry and I are off to such a bumpy start. We used to be such fun together and there was never an awkward pause or silence. It seems as though the War and the break up took a lot of what we had to say to one another. I am now afraid we will never get it back. Perhaps we were not meant to date out in the public? Perhaps we were not meant for a real relationship outside of Hogwarts?

Fuck that!

I am sitting across from the man of my dreams. This will work or I will die trying. Now say something Ginevra! Speak, God damn it!

I open my mouth to say something and Harry's head snaps up hopefully, but the waiter swiftly returns with the champagne. He places it in front of us. I watch the bubbles rise in the glass.

For the love of Merlin! Bubbles rising in my glass of champagne are the most interesting things happening tonight on this date. This is not good. Something has to be done! Isn't this like a first impression? If we do not define the extent of our relationship now, then what will happen? Will we live out our lives in awkward silence?

No!

We will not get any further than this because if we can not even feel comfortable enough to talk to one another then I am sure as hell not doing this again. We should fall right into a rhythm and a stride. I always imagined our relationship would be easy and we wouldn't have to work at it.

The waiter leaves and again we plummet into awful silence. It slowly begins to fill the air around us until it is swirling around my head like angry wasps. I watch Harry sip his drink and give me an awkward smile. He opens his mouth to say something, but seems to change his mind.

"What are you thinking of ordering?" I ask. My voice sounds strange in the silence.

"Oh, um…I'm not sure yet," Harry says.

My shoulders slump when he does not elaborate or, I don't know, begin a conversation.

"This isn't going well," Harry says suddenly.

"No," I reply, straightening up.

"Why are we being so awkward with each other?" he asks, looking at me pleadingly. "This shouldn't be so awkward! We know each other!"

"I know!" I say. I smile at him in relief. "Thank goodness you feel the same way! I was afraid you didn't think there was anything wrong!"

"Are you kidding? This is the most painful thing I've ever had to sit through!" He laughs.

"Maybe we should get the check?" I say. "This restaurant is stuffy."

"A bit pretentious," Harry agrees with a wide smile. "I have an idea that might salvage this shit night."

"Ok…" I say slowly. "What?"

"Do you like hamburgers?"

Twenty minutes later, Harry and I are sitting on the shore of this peaceful little lake with full stomachs. I'm ashamed at how fast I have eaten two hamburgers and a large fry. My vanilla milkshake it sitting in the sand. Harry conjured a blanket for us to lay on.

We lay together, our shoulders touching.

"I'm glad we're doing this," I say into the peaceful silence. It isn't as awkward anymore. Real dates like that do not need to define us, I decide. We're more comfortable in a less structured setting. I know dinner is the corner-stone of where a relationship begins, but I'd rather be on this blanket with a stomach full of burgers and chips, then in some restaurant with champagne and expensive food.

"I'm glad we're doing this, too," Harry says. His hand nudges mine a bit and then encases mine. I think he is going to lean in to kiss me, but suddenly remember the onions on the burger. My breath must stink to high heavens! What if he leans in to kiss me, but suddenly pulls back, repulsed?

Now I'm sweating.

I quickly turn my head away (ruining the moment to boot) and casually unsnap my purse. I root around for a mint and pop one in my mouth, turning my head away from him.

"Look at the moon!" I say. I drool on myself a bit and my voice sounds as though there is something in my mouth. I let the mint melt on my tongue.

"Uh, yeah. It's nice and round," Harry says, a bit bewildered.

I turn my head even further to the side and spit the rest of my mint out.

"What are you doing?" Harry asks, with a laugh.

"Nothing," I say quickly.

"What did you spit out?" he asks.

I sigh. "A mint. My breath probably smelled and if you were going to kiss me, then I didn't want my breath to be so foul."

Oh fucking hell. Did I just tell Harry Potter that I was expecting him to kiss me? Out loud? To his face? What is the matter with me? Why don't I just tell him all the embarrassing things that run through my mind when I think of him? Like how he would like lying above me, or how big he is, or whether or not he thinks of me when he touches himself? I am a bit perverted, but I think these things discretely to myself! If I start blabbing them all about like a baboon then I am in for a world of trouble.

Harry gives me an incredibly sexy look before bursting into laughter.

"What?" I say, mildly offended.

"Nothing." He turns to me. "I think I'm falling in love with you…" He says this as though he is almost posing it as a question to me. As though 'Am I in love with you?' Well, if you are asking me, then yes you are. Madly. You want to marry me and have my babies, actually, if it's being left up to me.

"You are?" I ask, my stupid little voices breaking. I can't keep that nervous tremor out of my voice. It is as though I know what is going to happen next. I can feel it working up inside of Harry. I can see him internally working up the nerve to do it. And then he kisses me.

Those soft, sweet kisses I've missed so dearly. They are not eager or persistent or rushing. He takes his time kissing me, as though we have the entire night to just sit here and kiss. Just by doing that, though, he works me into a frenzy, as per usual. Soft sweet kisses like this make my body ache for something more, and I think Harry knows it drives me crazy in a good way. Not in a cat-lady way, like in a 'I want to shag you' way.

I eagerly kiss him back and press myself against him. I grab at his shirt and press his chest against mine. We are both turned on our sides and perhaps not in the best position to do this, but it feels exactly like I would have wanted it. I feel his hand go into my hair and I smile a bit into his kiss. My eyes fall closed when his lips break from mine and kiss along my jaw line. When the reach my neck, I fall over onto my back in surprise.

Harry takes my lead and lays on top of me. He gazes down at me a bit concerned. "Is this okay?" he asks, brushing my hair back from my face. He lovingly tucks it behind my ear.

I lick my lips a bit, desperate for another kiss and reply, "Yes."

"You look gorgeous tonight," he says. His hand goes to my shoulder, and then slowly slides down my side to reach my hip. I shiver in the heat and let out a little noise. His eyes snap back up to mine and I give him a comforting smile then reach for his neck. I bring his head down to kiss me again.

I'm not sure how long we lay on the blanket kissing. Perhaps it was only fifteen minutes, but it could have been longer or shorter. All I know is that soon, before I realize it, both of our hips are moving in exact unison. I'm aching and short of breath, desperate for something more to happen. I can feel that Harry feels the same way, too.

His hands slide along my dress, which has become bunched around my hips. Finally, his hand comes in contact with my bare thigh. I let out a desperate moan into his mouth and his hand scatters.

"No," I breathe, grabbing for it. Without realizing I am doing it, I place it back under my dress. Nothing but constant kisses and nibbles from Harry could have caused such boldness. I'm a little more demanding than he is being. I do not know if perhaps I am a bit more desperate for something to happen. I have never felt this intense need to get my knickers off of my body.

Harry moans into my ear as his fingers skate across the waist of my knickers.

"They're old. And they aren't pretty and they're—" I say suddenly, embarrassed that he may actually see or touch them, despite my obvious want.

"I don't care," he replies instantly.

His hand dips below the waist of my knickers and he touches me. As though a firecracker went off from within me, my nerves suddenly exploded. I let out a low, whimpering sound and my head flew back.

"Merlin," Harry says softly. He sounds dumbfounded.

This goes on for about a minute or so, me writhing underneath him. I both jump away and push towards his hand. It is too much and not enough at the same time. I can feel this unexplainable feeling pushing its way out of me, and realize this isn't how I want it to be.

With fumbling hands, I reach for his belt buckle. I get it loose before he realizes what is happening. He takes his hand away from me and loss of it nearly makes me cry out in frustration.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"I just…I want to be with you," I say, feeling myself blush. The sight of him in front of me is almost over powering. His hair is mussed more than usual, his eyes are dark, his lips are glistening slightly in the moonlight. With his shirt undone and half pulled out he looks, to be quite frank, fuckable.

This is what was making the night so uncomfortable. We couldn't talk to each other or look at each other because all we wanted to do was shag. It was pulsing and racing through our veins and seeping from our skin. With every breath it was like we were beckoning towards each other to shag. Not order an appetizer, not sip champagne, not make polite conversation. No. We wanted to shag because we have been in a constant state of foreplay for almost three years. This primal need to yank his shirt from his pants and rip it open and kiss his chest is overpowering me, so I do just that. Harry gasps in surprise.

I have been slightly afraid of this point in a relationship since I was aware of what actually happens. The thought that we would do something that is going to hurt me puts me off quite a bit. Why can't it hurt them? Huh? Even just a bit would be fine with me! I mean, all the guy would have to do would be to say, "Ouch, dear, that hurt!" and I'd feel tons better.

The second Harry settled in on top of me, though, it changed. There was this pulsing feeling throughout my body that I didn't expect. There was a slight ache from deep within me that seemed to grow more and more with every kiss, with every touch. I found myself wanting to do it here and now.

Harry is bent over at me, looking at me as though I have just uttered the most baffling thing he has ever heard in his life. He swallows once, then twice and shakes his head as though ridding himself of cobwebs.

I sit up and place a hand on his cheek.

"Harry," I say softly, giving his neck a tender kiss. "I love you and I want to be with you."

He lets out a groan of defeat when I slowly trail a hand down his chest to his lap and cup him softly through his trousers. His mouth finds mine and he kisses me forcibly. I gasp when we break away and let myself settle back on the blanket as Harry settles himself above me again.

He stares down at me and then breaks into a sweet smile before kissing me again. "I love you, Ginny," he says. He bends down to kiss my neck tenderly and kindly. His kisses get lower until they are resting above my cleavage. "I don't want to hurt you," he says.

"You won't," I gasp breathlessly. I run my fingers through his hair, letting my finger nails drag over his scalp. I feel him shiver and hear him let out a soft moan.

"Ok," he says softly into my ear.

He reaches under my dress and pulls the offending knickers from my body. The little golden snitches stitched into them twinkle slightly in the moonlight. I watch as he carefully places them down beside us. He looks down at me again and I give him a comforting smile.

"Take your pants off," I say, my voice sounding bold.

"Huh?"

"Take your pants off." I sit up and wait for him to follow my order. He gives me a bashful look as though he just now realized what needed to happen, but sits back nonetheless and takes his shoes off. His socks follow and then, ever so slowly, his pants are pulled down his legs and then completely off of him.

What used to be bony and knobbly, grew with him. Long lean legs replaced the chicken legs he used to have. He was still pale, but dark black hairs were all along his legs.

I gulp when I see his boxers. My bravado deflates as quickly as it came. I find myself embarrassingly fixated upon the tent in his dark maroon boxers.

One of his fingers nudges one of my fingers and I raise my eyes to look at him. He's giving me a comforting look, as though if I changed my mind now, it would be okay, he wouldn't be angry.

"Are you okay?" he asks me.

"Yes," I reply. I reach for the hem of my dress and tug it off. With shaking hands I reach for my bra and undo the snaps. It slides off of my shoulders and down my arms. I suck in a deep breath and let it fall from my arms and onto the blanket beside my dress.

I can hear Harry's sharp intake of breath and I wonder if that is a good thing or not. I dare not look him in the eyes for fear of the blush on my face showing.

We sit for maybe five or ten seconds without moving. I can feel Harry's eyes on me and then he slowly starts inching towards me. When I do not shrink back, he seems to take encouragement and kisses the side of my face. I turn my face towards him and kiss him quickly on the lips.

"I'm ready," I say softly.

"Okay."

I lay back down, my eyes fixated on the moonlight. I feel his comfortable weight settle on top of me. He strokes the side of my cheek, causing me to look at him instead. As soon as our eyes meet we both burst into nervous laughter.

It feels good to laugh. Most of the awkwardness melts away as we laugh. I am centered again. This is Harry who I will be doing this with, not some stranger. He would kill himself rather than cause me any pain. His concern and his patience is what makes me love him so much.

"You have your boxers on," I say when we stop laughing.

"I didn't want to scare you," he replies.

I laugh again. "I'm not scared."

"Alright…"

Harry lifts his hips off of mine and pulls his boxers down his legs. He settles back on top of me and I let out a soft gasp when I feel him bump against my opening. Hearing his little moan (the sexiest sound I think I will ever hear) I feel a wild sense of empowerment. I take a hold of him. His eyes widen and he sucks in a deep gulp of air that he doesn't release. I like the feel of him in my hand and slowly move it up and down the length of him until his breathing starts to shorten and become shallower.

"Ready?" he asks.

"Ready."

There is a brief moment where he tries to figure out the best angle at which to enter me. I move down a bit and spread my legs as wide as possible. He grabs one of my legs and wraps it around him. I feel him bump against me again and think I will nearly die from anticipation.

I brace myself for what I am sure is going to be blinding, screaming pain and buckets of blood. But as Harry slowly eases his way into me, all I feel is a tense, stretching pressure. It is not pleasurable as he inches inside of me, nor is it ungodly awful. I know, though, that if it doesn't feel better, it will not be happening again. It feels a bit uncomfortable at first as he starts, but when he finally fills me I let out a small gasp. My hands fly to his arms and squeeze.

"I'm sorry," he breathes into my ear. "I tried to be—"

"That was a good gasp, I think," I say. "Try to move."

And then it starts. What was building up inside of me all night suddenly starts to multiply and thunder throughout my body. I've heard horror stories and pleasure stories and nothing seems to compare to what I am feeling now. My eyes fall close and bursts of color form behind my eyes every time Harry pushes his way back in.

"Are you okay?" he asks. His voice sounds strained and he makes a loud moan when I twist my hips a bit.

"Yes," I breathe.

I look at his face, with his eyes screwed shut and a bead of sweat forming at his hair line and I realize that this is what real love is. If everyone gets to experience something like this at least once in their lives, then I don't know what everyone is so damn upset about. This is what I've been waiting for from Harry. I've felt this empty, weeping void since he dumped me which was only made worse by being around him every second of every day. Tonight, under the humid sky and under the man of my dreams, this void is filled and I feel so complete that I could cry.

Something bursts from me that is quite different from a cry. Those embarrassing moans are back. I can not stop them from coming from my mouth. Every time I open my mouth to tell Harry that I'm close to _something_, only a whimper or gasp or moan will come out. I guess he'll have to be surprised. Something was nudging me in the right place in such a manner that every time he pushed back into me it felt like a jolt of pleasure that grew and grew until…

"Oh fuck!" I say, pulling him against me. It is so powerful I feel as though I can't breathe or see or move correctly, as though this thing were controlling my reactions. It finally came to a tipping point and I felt wave after wave crashing over me.

When it finally ends and sets my limbs free, I am panting frantically. I can feel tears in my eyes (how embarrassing) and sweat on my body. Harry is gazing down at me in such awe that if I could have, I would have blushed. We were only at it for about three minutes or so, but trust me, it felt longer. His face suddenly twists up again and he breathes my name into my ear and then…

My eyes widen and I gasp in surprise. I seem to have forgotten a very important part of this act.

He shudders on top of me and then comes to a still. Our rising and falling stomachs touch as our breathing finds a rhythm together.

After he catches his breath, Harry slowly slips out of me and onto his side. He swallows a few times before opening his mouth to speak, but can only suck in more and more air. His hand runs through his hair.

Our eyes meet again and we both burst into laughter again. He leans over and kisses me. It is such a wonderful kiss that I could get lost in it if I wanted. We will pull back and smile at each other. He tucks my hair behind my ear again.

"That was…interesting," I say with a laugh.

He laughs. "Yes. It was, wasn't it?" he agrees. "It didn't hurt too bad?"

"Nope." I shake my head. "Even if it did, I wouldn't have remembered the beginning with a finale like that."

Harry blushes a bit and pushes his glasses up his nose. "Good. I wouldn't have wanted to hurt you." He looks over at me as though he wants to say something, but doesn't.

"What?" I ask him.

"Nothing." I can definitely tell now that he has something he doesn't want to say. "It was just a thought that ran through my head."

"Which was?" I ask. "Don't be embarrassed!"

"You'd…I mean to say that maybe you'd…" Harry turns to look at me. "…do that again?"

I nod and touch his cheek softly. "With you, always."

Mindful of the time, we do not stay much longer before getting dressed again. He takes my hand as we walk up the path. The lake we went to is only a twenty minute walk from the Burrow, and we opt to walk together than to shorten the night any.

When we get up to the Burrow, Harry gives me a last kiss.

"Can I see you tomorrow?" he asks.

I nod vigorously. "Yes."

"Around lunch time?"

"Mhmm," I reply into his mouth. "That sounds nice."

"I had a nice time," Harry says.

"I bet you did," I reply.

He seems a bit embarrassed and says, "I love you."

My stomach (which I am sure will never get used to Harry uttering those three words) flips and I smile goofily up at him. "I love you, too."

"Goodnight."

"Night. I'll flick my light so you'll know I'm upstairs safely."

"OK."

I enter the dark living room, give Harry a parting wave and close the door over. There is a fire that is just winding down in the living room as I walk past the fireplace and into the kitchen. I see a note from Mum asking that I knock to let her know I'm in safe. I head up the stairs and over to her door.

I give a soft knock. "Mum?" I call softly.

"Hmm?" Mum sleepily replies.

"I'm home safely."

"Oh, good, love! Did you have a nice time?"

"I had a wonderful time."

"Tell me all about it in the morning."

"Okay."

Obviously I'll leave out some choice details, but I'll be sure to tell her enough to ease her appetite.

I go into my room and quickly flip my light switch three times. I look out my side window and see him smile up at me before Apparating off. Hermione is asleep in her little bed by the window. She decided to spend the night so that we could talk all about my date when I got home. I shut the door over and lean against it.

"Ginny?" Hermione sits up and blearily rubs her eyes. "How was your date?"

"I'm going to marry that boy," I say, more to myself than to her.

"So, good then?"

I only smile.

A/N: Hello. I have been trying to write a Harry/Ginny story for almost a year now. I couldn't find the right angle, specifically because half the people in the books were killed in the last forty pages of the seventh book. Then, one day, I came up with what I thought might be an interesting idea. This story is going to be canon-ish, in that certain things from Deathly Hallows happened, but not a lot. I have decided to set this story in the Growing Up Potter universe. This is how Harry and Ginny came to be and then to have Elizabeth, James and then our protagonist, Roe.

Don't like it, don't continue reading it, but this is how I wanted to write this story. It will be strictly Harry/Ginny, though. A prequel if you will. There will be no Albus Severus in my story. Remus and Tonks are still alive and they will have Demi in this story. I'm just having fun with it for right now and will try to update as quickly as possible. It helps combat the boredom that is summer.

So, just read and review and complain at will about it, but this will be my pet project for now.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I hope everyone likes it. :)

* * *

When I wake the next morning I am slightly surprised to feel a bit sore. I wince slightly and roll from the bed. My bare feet hit the warm floor and I head to the bathroom. I close the door over and stare at myself in the mirror. I turn my face from side to side, scrutinizing every single inch of my face. Once I am completely, one hundred percent certain that it is not noticable that I have had sex, I leave the bathroom.

And immediately collide with Hermione.

"You're up!" she says, grabbing me by the shoulders as she walks around me. She pulls me into the bathroom with her. "Good. Now you can tell me all about your night," she says as she turns on the tap.

I swallow a bit nervously. "What do you want to know?" I ask.

"Well...where did he take you for dinner?" She looks at me through the mirror.

"That Italian place in Diagon Alley. We didn't stay long, though."

"Why?"

"It was kind of awkward. We wanted to go somewhere more comfortable to talk...and stuff." I close my eyes for a brief second, hoping my growing blush doesn't show on my face. I feel as though everything I say is a clue to a puzzle she is suddenly going to piece together.

"Where did you go?" Hermione asks. She begins to wash her face.

"The lake down the road."

"Huh," Hermione says. She places the facecloth on the sink next to her and inspects her face. "That seems romantic."

"It was."

"What is that?" she asks suddenly.

"What?" I yelp. I immediately touch my neck. Do I have a hickey? Oh, for the love of everything holy. Did I miss a hickey on my neck during my inspection.

"What was that grin you had on your face?" she asks.

I raise my eyes to look at her in the mirror. She is giving me a look.

"I was grinning?" I ask as casually as I can.

"I'll say so," she says, giving me a little laugh. She raises her eyebrows, if possible, even higher. "A good grin, if I ever saw one."

"It was nice," I say, shrugging.

"Nice."

Her tone causes me to flinch ever-so-slightly. I can feel a soft sheen of sweat begin to break out along my body. I feel as though my secret is scrawled all over the walls and we're both pretending we don't notice them. The room begins to shrink, my secret causing the walls to move closer to us. The air begins to slink out of the room, leaving my nearly breathless. I can feel her suspicion as though it were a warm blanket, coming to slowly cover me, but not to protect me, to smother me.

"OH, ALRIGHT, YOU WIN!" I scream. "I did it! We did it last night!"

Hermione's eyes bug out in the mirror and she turns around to face me, looking flabberghasted.

"You what?" she asks loudly.

"We...did it," I say, catching my breath. "Oh, boy. It feels good to get that out in the open like that. I had no idea it was--"

"Ginny!" Hermione snaps. "You and Harry...did it? On the first date?"

"Well..." I stop. I never really thought of it the way she seems to be thinking of it. Oh fucking hell. "Does that make me skanky?" I ask suddenly. "Oh fucking hell. Do you think Harry thinks I'm a slut? Do I have to go, like, get my slut card now? I just...It felt right and I love...I need to sit down."

"Okay, okay. Come here." Hermione leads me over to the toilet just as I lose the feeling in my leg and plop down on the toilet seat cover. My mind is spinning and the room shrinks again. It is trying to punish me for being a skanky-skank. "Look at me." Hermione's voice is quite firm. I look at her. "You are not a slut. Having sex with Harry doesn't make you a slut. That isn't what I meant. I didn't mean to say it with that tone. You surprised me."

I feel tears spring to my eyes. "I..." My voice quivers, daring me to continue. "It felt right and I love him!"

"It's fine, Ginny!" Hermione says imploringly. "Everyone is ready at different times! You and Harry had all that history that it doesn't matter! If you and Harry were ready then it's fine."

I sniffle. "Don't tell anyone."

"Duh," she replies.

"Anyone includes Ron," I say, raising my eyes to meet hers.

"Double duh," she snaps. "I'm not stupid." She gives me a comforting smile. "You look like a puppy I've slapped on the nose."

"I feel like a puppy you've slapped on the nose," I say.

When I stand, she wraps me in a hug.

"I'm glad you and Harry are getting together, Ginny. Let's go downstairs."

All morning I wait for Harry to show up. To me, this is the most important moment. Our basic interaction will alert everyone to whether or not we did it, that much I am certain.

I am waiting by the sink nervously when I hear Ron say, "Mate, you've tracked a bunch of soot in."

"You shoved me from the fireplace, prat," Harry retorts. "Well, I guess I'll clean it up. Some host you are."

I hear his footsteps getting closer until he reaches the broom cupboard. Before he can open it, he catches sight of me. I suck in my breath and raise my hand slightly in hello. His face breaks out in a giant smile.

"Hi," he says softly, coming towards me.

"Hi," I reply.  
"How are you?" He looks me over, as though I'll be all bruised and whatnot. "Do you feel okay?"

"I feel fine," I insist.

"Good," Harry says. He hesitates near me, and then he leans in and kisses me.

The second our lips touch, I knew I did right. I truly believe in Hermione's words. If it was right for us, then it was probably right.

"Harry? Where are--" Ron calls, coming into the kitchen.

"Broom!" Harry cries, springing back from me.

Ron stops, looks at each of us, then says, "I don't want to know," with his hands raised near his face. He walks from the room.

And that was that. No one questioned us.

OoOoOo

A week passes. Harry and I see each other as often as possible. He is currently training to become an Auror. I, myself, have been trying to get a job, to no avail. I can't seem to figure out what I want to do with myself when I'm older.

"Think long and hard," Dad advises me. "Be passionate about what you do," he says. "You're, hopefully, going to be doing this job for a very long time, so you want to pick wisely."

"You draw such nice pictures," Mum says. "Why don't you try submitting them? Or, how about your writing? You used to write such cute little stories!"

They are both trying to push me in the right decision. A part of me wishes they would stop telling me to take my time and figure everything out. A part of me wishes they would start yelling and demand I find a job immediately. Sometimes I do not know if their soft, kind words are helping or hurting me. Though, if I did feel pressured to get a job right away I might pick something I do not like.

I am sitting in my room, agonizing over the want ads in the Daily Prophet, when there is a pop to my right. I nearly fall from the bed in surprise, to see a pleased looking Harry.

"You nearly scared me half to death!" I snap.  
"Sorry." He doesn't look sorry. "I managed to make it into your room this time!"

I smile at the obvious delight on his face. "That's...good."

"What are you doing tonight?" he asks.

"Nothing. Why?"

"Remus and Tonks want you to come to dinner and spend the night there tonight. I told them we were dating and you know Tonks. She wants to see it in the flesh."

I smile. "When did they get back from the honeymoon?"

"The day before yesterday." Harry sits on my bed and picks up the paper, reading over it. "They looked like proud parents when I told them."

I feel my mouth run dry and I clutch onto his arm. "Told them _what_?" I ask.

He looks up at me, confused, and then he says, "Oh, God! Not that! I told them that were were, you know, together. Dating."

"Oh." I sigh in relief. "OKay." I take this in for a brief second. "I'll probably have to run it by Mum and Dad first."

Harry nods and then turns the paper around. "Job hunting?"

"Well, I did graduate last month. Luna's dad got her a job. She told me Neville has a paid internship and that he got it right out of Hogwarts. You and Ron are training and Hermione's working her way up in the Ministry. I'm the only one without a job." I sigh heavily. "I'm aimless. I have no idea what I want to do with myself!"

"You've got a knack for drawing," Harry says.

"Little naked, dancing elves!" I say. "How is that going to earn me any money?"

"You'll think of something," Harry says.

I glance at the clock. "Dad'll probably be home for lunch by now. Maybe I'll go ask them if I can spend the night."

"Okay," Harry says.

"Tell me if you suddenly find my future career in that sea of useless bullshit," I say, gesturing at the paper before I head down the stairs.

The sight of Mum and Dad suddenly makes me nervous. Perhaps they say no?

"Mum," I say as she washes the dishes. Dad is sitting at the kitchen table reading the paper. He laughs every so often or makes a disgruntled comment involving Quidditch.

"Yes, dear?" Mum asks. She pauses the dishes and turns to look at me. "What is it?"

"Remus and Tonks invited me to spend the night at the house tonight," I say. I do not mention Harry, as though she might forget where he lives simply by omission.

"Oh?" she asks innocently. Her eyes snap to the back of Dad's head and then back at me again.

"Would it be alright if I...accepted their invitation?"

Mum's lips purse tightly. She glances down at Dad a second time and I can tell he is listening now, for the paper has stopped rustling. They have to let me go! I am a grown, adult witch now. Technically, I do not need their permission, but out of respect I will ask for it. I do want a roof over my head by the end of this conversation.

Dad turns around to look at Mum and they seem to speak silently to each other. Just as suddenly, he goes back to the paper without saying a word.

"That would be fine," Mum says. She seems tense. "Seperate rooms," she says, just as I am about to leave and rush back upstairs.

"Huh?" I ask, turning around.

"Sleep in seperate rooms while you are there," she repeats. She is ringing her hands nervously.

I feel myself blush terribly. "Of course," I reply. My voice seems to have died from embarrassment and the only thing that comes out is this hoarse, gross voice. I swallow and try again. "Of course we'll sleep in seperate rooms."

Mum nods curtly. "Okay then." She gives me half of a smile and turns back around to do the dishes. I slowly return to the stairs and when I get no interuption, I run up them two at a time to tell Harry.

"They said yes," I say breathlessly as I get back into my room. I go to close the door over, but remember Mum's rule earlier and keep it open.

Harry looks up from the paper and gives me a huge smile. "Good!" he says. He stands. "So, I'll come back around seven and pick you up?"

"Sounds good." I give him a kiss on the cheek.

"I've got to run," he says.

"Oh." I pout a bit. "Where?"

"Well, my room is a bloody mess, for one," Harry says.

"I don't mind," I say.

"Oh, you will."

"Will...will Remus and Tonks let us sleep in the same room?" I ask. I know I promised Mum, but some promises were meant to be broken.

Harry frowns and then says, "I don't know. Probably."

"Okay." I kiss him. "Go. Clean. Be domestic."

He smiles at me. "I'll be back later."

All day I walk around in a blissfull fog. It is completely obliterated around six-fifty, though. I had my bag all packed and it was waiting by the fireplace. I was in the kitchen saying goodbye to Dad. He then left to go out back in the shed to tinker with something else he brought home last week. It was something called a...teevee. It sounded bloody weird!

"Well, Mum, Harry'll be here any moment. I'll see you in the morning." I give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Have fun, dear. Oh, and I owled Remus earlier about our arrangement," she says.

"Our...what? Our arrangement?"

"Yes. You know, the seperate rooms thing," she says.

"Mum!" I explode, my cheeks igniting. "Did you owl him to tell him that?"

"Of course I did!" Mum gives me an incredulous look. "What's the matter?"

"It's bloody embarrassing!" I shout.

"Watch your mouth," Mum snaps. She softens. "I'm sorry, Ginny, but..." She stops. "I'm sorry."

"I can't believe you would do something like that!"

"I'm sorry," she repeats. "You have to understand, Ginny, I'm in unfamiliar terrirtory." She gives me a pleading look and I tilt my head as though to give her permission to continue. "You're my only daughter. I've never had to worry about anything like this before!" Her bottom lip quivers. "You may be over-age in the Wizarding world, but you're still so young! I know he loves you, and I sure _know_ you love him. I just..." She sighs heavily. "I just want you to stay my baby girl as long as possible." And with that her eyes suddenly spill over with tears.

I try my best to hold out and act offended, but I can not. I sniffle and nudge towards her. "I'll always be your little girl," I say thickly. "I have no choice. There's no one else to shove it off on."

She laughs, though she still seems to be crying. She opens her arms for a hug and I immediately let her. She may be infuriating almost all the time, but she's my Mum and I will always love her for it.

"I'll try to be good about this, Ginny, I promise I'll try," she whispers in my ear. She strokes my hair and then gives me a squeeze before she releases me. "Just, please, no sex until you're thirty!"

I roll my eyes and laugh. "I'll promise you I'll try," I say. I'm not exactly lying, I can't help it if I've already done it before I made this promise.

She sighs and shakes her head.

I hear a pop from the living room.

"Oh, jeez!" I cry. I wipe at my eyes frantically. "Did my makeup run?"

"Of course," Mum says. She wipes under my eyes. "There. Beautiful." She touches my cheek, then gives me a kiss and goes into the livingroom to greet Harry. I rush to the mirror over the sink to see if I look okay and then head into the living room.

"There she is!" Mum declares, as though she didn't see me ten seconds ago. "Well, you two have a nice night!" She gives me a pointed look before kissing us both on the cheek.

"Goodnight, Molly," Harry says. He holds out his hand and I take it. "Ready?" he asks. I nod and feel our feet lift up off the ground. Our shoulder knock together and this time, before I can fall to my feet, Harry anchors me with his weight and keeps a strong grasp on my hand as I lean forward. Had he not been holding my hand that tight, I would have surely tasted carpet by now.

"That was much more graceful," he comments with a smirk.

I sniff. "Well, I _am_ a lady."

"Hardly."

I do not get a chance to reply.

"Harry? Is that you?"

"Yeah, Tonks, it's us!"

She comes running in from the kitchen. When she sees me she gives me a huge beam. Her hair immediately turns from light brown to bright pink, but she takes not notice. She wraps me in a huge hug.

"How have you been?" she asks delightedly. "We're so happy you came!"

"Me too," I say.

"Remus and I got back from our honeymoon and Harry told us you got together!" Tonks says, still beaming. "Of course something like that would happen after we had gone." She shakes her head and leads us into the kitchen.

Tonks and Remus basically forced Harry to move in with them, despite their upcoming newly-weddeddom.

Remus is just coming in from inside when we get into the kitchen. He gives us a giant smile and also wraps me in a hug.

"Hello, Ginny, how have you been?" he asks.

"Good!" I say. "How about you two? How's married life?"

He shrugs. "Pretty much the same, right?" He looks over at Tonks.

"Yeah, pretty much. Except I've now got this guy who follows me around all the time. Says he's my husband. Really annoying. Seen him?" She cocks an eyebrow at Remus.

"Yeah, what a bloody wanker," Remus replies.

I can't help but smile at them. There are certain people that simply need to be together. If they aren't they're bloody miserable. Tonks and Remus are two of those people. Ron and Hermione are another two people. And, I would like to think Harry and I are another two people.

"Ginny, we'll show you to your room," Remus says, taking my overnight bag.

"Well...actually, Remus, if it was alright with you, I thought I would sleep on the couch in my room and Ginny could take the bed," Harry says. I can see the blush suddenly spreading over his cheeks.

"Um..." Remus says. He sounds a bit dumbfounded. "Molly would probably want--" Tonks elbows him hard. "That's fine." I have a feeling he told Tonks about the letter and they had a discussion of their own. He gives us a smile before glaring over at Tonks. "Come on, Ginny, I'll show you to Harry's room."

Tonks gives me a wink as we begin to walk up the stairs. "Remus is slightly afraid of your mother, I think," she says. "But, really, I don't see the problem with you two sharing a room."

We get to the top of the stairs and Remus leads us into Harry's room. I have never been inside his room before. The walls are white and the floors are covered with a dark wood. He has a nice sized bed in the middle of the room. To the left is a bay-window and a book shelf. To the right is an over stuffed red velvet couch and a door that must lead to a closet. A trunk sits in front of the bed.

"Here we go," Remus says. He places my bag on the couch. "Well..." He bounces on his feet and claps his hands together once. "Harry? Can I talk to you outside?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," Harry says.

"Great." Remus yanks Harry from the room and shuts the door over.

"Honestly," Tonks says with a great sigh. "He is so old fashioned! He seems to forget that he was your age once! Not to mention the fact that he isn't so gentlemenly all the time!"

"Is that so?" I say awkwardly.

"Shit! Sorry." She gives me an awkward smile. "Too much information, huh?"

"Just a touch."

"Don't worry about Remus, though. He just doesn't want you two getting into trouble. I have to keep reminding him that Harry survived a war and beat Voldemort. He's a good kid and isn't going to get into any trouble."

Harry and Remus come back into the room. Harry's face is bright red with embarrassment.

"Okay...well," Remus says, "we'll just let you get settled for a bit. Dinner in an hour?"

"Sure," I say.

"Tonks."

"Right!" Tonks starts forward. "See you two in a bit!"

She closes the door over and Harry and I turn to each other.

"That was about ten times more awkward than it had to be," Harry says, sounding a bit disgruntled.

"What did Remus say?" I ask curiously.

"He told me to sleep on the couch. To not get into bed with you. To absolutely under no circumstances have sex with you while you were under this roof. He said a lot of other stuff about being gentlemenly and blah, blah, blah. I had half a mind to remind him that we share paper-thin walls and some nights I am awoken to not so nice sounds coming from their room."

Voices suddenly appear from the wall behind the bed. I know it impolite to listen, but really, there is no other option!

"I can not believe you did not back me up!" Remus snaps. "You mine as well become a spokesperson for pre-marital sex!"

"Oh for the love of Merlin, Remus! They're young! If they want to shag, they are going to find every available surface to do it on! Just let them be!"

Remus says something that I can not quite hear. All I hear is Tonk's reply.

"If you remember, you and I weren't married when we started shagging!"

"Oh for the love of Merlin," Harry says, rolling his eyes.

"So, do you want to take a walk later?" I ask, trying to direct our attention elsewhere. It is no use, though.

"That was completely different!" Remus replies.

"How so?"

"I was thirty-seven years old! You weren't that far behind me in age. We were--"

Tonks gives a shot of outrage. "I wasn't close behind?" she snaps. "I am ten years younger than you, you cradle robber!"

"Like you gave me much choice of anything else!" Remus retorts. "You kept coming on to me, asking to patrol with you in those tiny little outfits!"

"Shall we take that walk now?" Harry asks, grabbing my hand and practically dragging me from the room. Again, despite the impoliteness of eavesdropping, I could have popped popcorn to that shit. I never hear anything as juicy as that in my house! Except the one time I went to knock on Ron's door and call them down for dinner and before I could knock I heard, "Ron, just stick it in already!" and "I'm bloody trying, okay?" Though, that wasn't juicy as it was incredibly disgusting.

Harry leads me outside into the warm summer air. Once outside he seems to relax a bit and turns to me with a bashful grin.

"They're like my really embarrassing parents," he says, rolling his eyes.

"Do they always fight like that?" I ask.

"No. Not really. They never fight." He takes my hand in his and we begin to walk down the road towards town. "Sorry if he embarrassed you with all the sex talk."

"It's fine," I say.

"He just feels as though he has to give me fatherly advice and stuff," Harry says with an awkward shrug. "I appreciate where he's coming from."

"Me too." I give his hand a squeeze. He looks down at me and smiles. "Believe me, before I left my house it was, 'I meant it, Ginevra, seperate rooms!' every twenty seconds." I sigh. "They seem to think that if we have sex it'll be the end of the world."

"Well, we did and it wasn't," Harry says.

"Exactly."

We smile at each other.

Harry shows me all around town. He brings me to something called a comic shop. I think our comics are ten times better, but whatever. I mean, their pictures don't even move! All they have are little swooping lines behind them to signal running. What fun, if any, is that?

We head back to the house after about forty-five minutes. While we might have left them fighting, they were anything but when we returned. Remus was fixing something on the stove the Muggle way, while Tonks hums and throws napkins onto the table.

"Try this," Remus says to her, as we enter the kitchen.

He feeds something into her mouth and she moanes in approval. "Good," she says.

"Good?" he askes and then kisses her.

"We're back," Harry announces loudly.

"Oh!"

They turn to us.

"How was the walk?" Tonks asks.

"Good," I say. "Harry showed me all around. You live in a nice little town."

"Why thank you," Tonks says. "We found this house on a walk one day."

About ten minutes later we settle down at the table for dinner. The tension from earlier today is completely gone. Tonks and Remus tell us one funny story after the other. I love hearing personal stories from people (judge not!).

"Well," Remus says, he takes a sip of wine. "Tonks insists I go out and check to see what the noise was. It's three in the morning, the wind is howling like a tornado is approaching. I can't find my pants or my wand." He looks over at Tonks. "I head outside and the door slams shut behind me. Of course, it's locked. I start banging on the door..."

"But the wind is so loud, I can't hear him," Tonks says. She laughs. "Finally, someone in the cabin right next door to us noticed a half naked man banging on the door. She called the Muggle police..."

"Who showed up and pointed their guns at me," Remus continues. "So, there I am, wearing nothing but a jacket (nothing else), banging on the door and I have five Muggle cops all pointing their guns at me. I kept trying to convince them that my wife was in bed sleeping. They nearly dragged me out of there!"

"I finally woke up to see where he was and saw him being questioned from outside," Tonks says. She sighs and then laughs. "I'll not soon forget the sight of Remus Lupin completely naked except for his jacket and black socks, don't forget the socks, trying to talk his way out of Muggle jail."

They tell a few other stories, including one from Remus involving his Hogwarts days, which I knew pleased Harry immensly. One of the biggest reasons I think Harry is even here is because he feels as though Remus is the last and final connection to his parents.

I grab Harry's hand under the table and give it a giant squeeze. He seems a bit confused, but gives me a sweet smile.

I tried to help Tonks clean up, but she and Remus insisted Harry and I go away.

"Guests do not clean up their messes, dear Miss Weasly!" was exactly what Tonks told me before shooing me away.

Harry and I headed up to bed. I was getting kind of tired and definitly ready to wind down. We bid Tonks and Remus goodnight and headed upstairs.

I follow Harry along the hallway until we get to his room. Tonks and Remus's upstairs look almost like a maze. All the rooms are placed together not neatly on either side, but sort of sticking out, so there are little alcoves. We finally get to Harry's room.

Harry closes his door over and turns to me. We smile a bit akwardly and then he says, "Care for a game of Exploding Snap?"

"Sure!" I say delightedly.

We sit on the floor across from each other and play game after game. We chat about random things. I am, personally, delighted beyond belief that our conversations rarely get awkward. Most of our conversations gravitate towards Ron and Hermione, simply because they are one of the biggest things we have in common.

"You...you know they've already done it, right?" he asks.  
"Uh, yeah," I say, throwing a card down. "I was enlightened about five months ago."

Harry smirks. "I'm personally glad they finally got around to doing it. It was getting to the point that I couldn't stand them. All that sexual tension wasn't being used correctly, so instead of them shagging out that tension, they kept yelling at each other. It was driving me bonkers!"

"Tell me about it!" I cry. "Hermione would fume about Ron for _hours_! 'Why is he so stupid, Ginny? He's the biggest git in the world! I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!' I was like, no you don't. You want to fuck him, that's your problem." Harry snorts. "Then she'd get all red and flustered and act as though I were crazy." I throw down another card and brace myself for explosion. I sigh when it doesn't happen.

"I wonder if they said this stuff about us?" Harry asks.

"Probably. We all probably gossip about each other all the time and don't realize it," I say. I yawn. "Blimey, I'm tired."

"Me too. Let's go to bed." He flings down his last card and is suddenly engulfed in a giant cloud of smoke.

"Ha!" I say, laughing. "You suck at this game."

Harry coughs and waves the smoke away from his face. "Maybe I'm letting you win!"

"You better not be!" I return.

"I'm going to wash my face," Harry says. He has a grimace on his face as he grabs a pair of pajamas and heads out of the room. I hear him open a door down the hall and flick the light on. I glance at a little clock on his bedside table and see that it's half past midnight. I'm surprised we played cards for that long! We must have been talking for two hours at least!

I yank my shirt and shorts off. I pick them up and fold them neatly and place them in my bag. I then reach behind me and unhook my bra. It slides down my arms and I, too, place that neatly in my overnight bag.

"Hey, do you need any water?" Harry says, coming into the room. "Oh. Sorry." He immediately turns around. "I didn't know you were changing."

"It's okay," I say, though I turn red. A part of me keeps forgetting that he has seen me naked before. I pull on my shirt and glance back at Harry once, but he is setting up his pillow and blanket on the couch. I pull on a pair of shorts. I usually sleep without them, but because I am in someone else's house, I figure I must wear them.

"Well, night," Harry says. He turns to me and kisses me. We pull apart and reluctantly go to our respective beds. "Is everything okay for you?"

"Yes, I'm fine," I say. I settle into his bed and flick the light off. The room immediately goes dark. Soft moonlight comes in through the windows to my right. I reach under the covers and tug my shorts off and throw them down next to me. I don't care. I can't stand getting all tangled up in those damn things. I settle down onto the pillows. Let me tell ya, this is one comfortable fucking bed. Puts my bed to all types of shame.

"Harry?" I ask some time later.

"Hmm?" he asks after a second.

"Are you asleep?"

"No."

"Is the couch comfortable?"

"Not. At. All."

I laugh at Harry's tone and turn on my side to look over at him. I can just barely make out his form from across the room. His eye glasses glint slightly in the dim light.

"You could...get into bed with me," I say in a half whisper.

My suggestion is met with silence. I can not tell if Harry has heard me or not. If he has heard me and pretending that he hasn't, then does that mean he wants to respect what Remus said, or that he doesn't want to have sex with me. Perhaps seeing me changing was a reminder of a mistake he made. Maybe he thinks my body is gross.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you hear me?"

"Uh-huh," he replies.

I hesitate. "Well?" I snap finally.

Harry turns to me. Even in the dark room I can tell he is looking directly at me. "Fine, but no funny business."

"Funny business? How old are you?" I say, giggling.

I hear Harry get up from the couch and come to stand near the bed. He pulls the covers down and slides in next to me.

"I mean it," he says. "You're dangerous."

"Excuse me?" I say, snorting.

"You seduced me down at the lake and you're trying to do it again," Harry says in a teasing tone.

"Ha! That's a nice spin on what actually happened! I seduced you?" I snort.

We fall into silence as he settles in the bed. I jump when his arm rubs mine. He isn't wearing a shirt. He jumps when his hand accidentally grazes my bare leg and he realizes I've taken my shorts off. Our eyes meet and a second later our lips meet for a desperate kiss.

We kiss for a while until it begins to feel a little bit familiar. We are about to head down a similar path unless one of us stops, and it certainly won't be me.

"Wait!" Harry says suddenly, he pulls away from me.

"Don't you dare," I moan into his ear.

"I'm sorry!" he snaps. "I _promised_ Remus we wouldn't do this tonight!"

"Don't be so moral!" I beg. I clutch at his shoulders and try to kiss him again, but he diverts his head with ninja speed. Damn Harry and his stupid moral compass! Though, I know I would never want him to change. His being so moral is one of the things that makes me love him so.

I know I will have to play dirty unless I want to go to bed very frustrated. I reach under the covers and tug my knickers down my legs and then grab them in my hand.

"What are you doing?" Harry asks as I toss them onto him. "What is this?"

"Those are my knickers," I whisper in his ear.

He groans. "This isn't fair!" he says.

"Sorry," I say, nipping at his ear.

Even with all his reservations, I can feel him begin to react to everything that is happening. He rubs against me. Doesn't he realize that he is driving me to the brink of madness?

I reach under the waists of both his pants and boxers and take a hold of him. As soon as I do, Harry lets out the sexiest little sound. He jumps towards the feel of my hand and clenches onto the sheet underneath him.

"Quietly," he breathes in my ear.

I silently agree and, with his help, tug his pants and boxers off. They shove down near our feet. Harry reaches for my shirt and tugs it off. It falls somewhere over the side of the bed, probably near my shorts. His fingers skate over every surface of my body before he seems satisfied. He settles in between my thighs and nudges my nose with his.

"Ready," I breathe. How could I not be ready?

He pushes into me and I fight the urge to let out a strangled cry. There is no resistance this time, no painful friction. I have to close my eyes, to fight the urge to scream out in sheer pleasure, but that only seems to make it worse. I open my eyes and try to fixate on something else, anything else, besides the feel of him pushing in and then pulling out.

I clutch at him desperately. "Harry!" I breathe into his ear. He simply groans in return.

This continues until I am sure one more thrust will be the one that causes me to unleash the pile of moans that are waiting to be released. It is like keeping them in only makes it more pleasureable, thus making me want to moan louder.

I feel incredibly close. I am thankful. Soon, this awful little silent climb will be over. I will topple over with ecstacy and then I can relax. But suddenly, just as I am about to climax, I feel myself roll over. I am no longer looking up at Harry, but down at Harry.

"Is this okay?" He whispers.

I can not speak. I simply nod silently. I do not trust myself to open my mouth. I can not believe I thought this was a good idea. It's hot to kind of sneak around, like we're doing, but I never thought it would be this hard to keep quiet. It is imperitive that we do not make any noise. I couldn't bear the thought of Remus or Tonks hearing us.

Harry's hands go to my hips and he slowly guides me into a rhythem I can work with. It feels a bit different. But, good lord, it's a good kind of different. I suck in a deep, desperate breath and begin to move on my own. Harry's hands clench onto my hips.

It's one thing to be slightly covered beneath his body, but this is different. I am in clear view of him. It doesnt' deter me. The fact that I can not under any circumstances make any noise makes everything ten times hotter. I don't know how I would have felt with Harry seeing me like this before, but I definitly like it now.

We continue like this until I feel myself begin to climax. Harry's hands move off of my hips and his thumb is suddenly touching me...THERE. My eyes nearly bulge out of my head and it is suddenly over faster than I could have ever imagined. I am making little gasping noises, desperately trying to keep quiet, and desperately trying to hold onto this feeling of absolute bliss. I feel him come with me and clench onto his shoudlers.

As soon as it is over I slump down on top of him. I feel sweaty and slightly slimy, but I do not care. I'm breathing as though I've run twenty-two miles, instead of being shagged mercilessly by my boyfriend.

"I...was...quiet," is all I can manage after a minute.

"Yes," Harry says. He sounds out of breath. "Yes you were."

I roll off of him and onto my back. I feel my limbs come back to use and look over at him with a sweet smile. How is it this boy can look so sweet and innocent after shagging all words from my vocabulary, after giving me the most amazing orgasm? I doubt I'll ever understand it.

I lean over and kiss his shoulder. We lay next to each other for another minute before I say, "I'm going to use the loo."

"Kay," he replies. I get out of bed and pull my shorts and shirt on. I head down the hall towards the bathroom. When I return, Harry is back in his pants and sitting on the bed.

"I'm going to use it, too," he says, passing me with a sweet smile.

I give a giant sigh and get back into bed. I jump and stare back at the headboard.

"Huh," I say. I begin to settle into bed and stop. I shift around again and hear the bed squeak loudly as the headboard slams into the wall with a loud, "THUMP, THUMP, THUMP."

I stare at it in horror. Has it been doing that the entire time?

"Oh fuck," I say as Harry comes back into the room.

"What's the matter?"

"Listen," I say. I shift in the bed and it makes the same noises again.

"Yeah, it squeaks a bit, but it's bloody comfortable."

"The bedsprings squeak when you move and the headboard hits the wall when you move in the bed," I inform him.

He swallows and looks at it before looking back at me.

"I'm sure it didn't make that much noise," he says. He runs a hand through his hair (a sure-fire sign he's nervous).

I blanch. "Oh, Merlin, Harry! What if they heard us?" I hiss.

"They didn't," Harry says firmly.

"Okay." I decide to believe him. He's flat out lying. But, really, what else can we do? We can't go back in time and un-shag each other. I mean, we could, it would just be bloody difficult and a pain in the arse.

"Let's just get to bed."

"Will you sleep in bed next to me?" I whisper.

"Mine as well," Harry mutters. He settles in next to me. "Good night," he says, placing a kiss on my head.

"Night," I mumble.

I do not even remember falling asleep. The only reason I wake up is because a beam of fucking sunshine is right in my eye, like a laser hellbent on waking me from my sleep. I wake up, forgetting where I am for a brief moment. It comes slamming back into me because of three things.

Note to self: Never wear hair down when sleeping next to boyfriend. When you wake up, it is sticking every which way like you got into a fight with a badger in your sleep. Second note to self: Do not drool all over his pillow. How impolite. Third note to self: Sleep with gum either in your mouth, on the bedside table, or in your fucking knickers. You know your breath is not exactly fresh cut wildflowers in the morning. That is all.

Within four seconds of waking I take in these three things and wildly attempt to fix them. I begin to smooth my hair down frantically.

"It's no use," Harry mumbles sleepily from the pillow next to me. "I was up about an hour ago because _someone_ kneed me in the bullocks. I've already seen your hair. Not to mention the puddle of drool I almost drowned in."

I blush bright red and shove him hard. "Can't you just pretend not to notice those things?"

"Absolutely not," he says with a smirk. "I like that I'm not the only one with uncontrollable hair in the morning."

"Yes, but mine takes orders and calms down if I tell it to. While yours runs rampant over your pretty little head."

I pout a bit. I'm a little upset that he has nothing to embarrassed about. That is until I feel him lean over to kiss me. At first I think it is his knee, but is smaller than his knee.

"Harry, are you serious? We've only been up for three minutes!"

He pulls away. "I can't help it!" he snaps.

I giggle and kiss the side of his face, near his temple.

"What time is it?" I ask.

"Half past eight," he says.

"Do you smell that?" I ask.

"I think Tonks is making breakfast."

"I'm starving!" I say.

"OKay."

Harry tumbles out of bed. He scratches at his stomach as he heads to his closet and drags out a shirt and a pair of pants. I lay in bed and watch him get undressed, only to watch him get dressed again. I could lay in this bed all day if I had the choice.

"Did you want to get dressed or at least do your hair before you go downstairs?" he asks, teasing.  
"Watch it," I say, half snapping, half teasing right back.

I pull myself from the bed and over to my overnight bag. I grab at a pair of pants and a tank top. I pull them on and then run a brush through my hair. Grabbing an elastic from within my bag I tug my hair into a pony tail.

"Better?" I ask sarcastically, tossing my brush back into my bag.

"I have no preferance," he replies. "I'd like you even if you had, say, a mullet."

I grimace. "I think not."

"I would!" he insists. "I'll love you no matter what."

I feel myself blush slightly and kiss him.

"Actually," he says, when we pull back. "I stand corrected. That morning breath has to go."

I give him a look of outrage and push at his shoulder. "You prat!" I snap. "Your breath isn't exactly the light of my fucking life!" I dodge him when he tries to wrap his arms around me. "Don't touch me, you bastard!" I say, not in a mean or offended way.

I suppose because we had that period before we dated that we were mates that gives us the freedom to talk to one another this way. I know if Dean had said something like that to me, I would have been seriously offended. Harry saying it isn't that way, though.

We brush our teeth, standing together, shoulder to shoulder. We then head down the stairs to breakfast. My heart beats wildly and I am blushing as I take a seat next to Harry at the table.

"Morning, you two," Tonks says, placing orange juice down next to us. "Sleep alright?"

"Huh?" I yelp. I try to disect her tone as Harry nudges me and snaps, "Be cool!"

"Was the bed alright? I've tried to get Harry to get rid of that old thing, but he insists he loves it," Tonks says.

"It already has my body contours in it," Harry says. "I'd have to break in a whole new mattress." He shakes his head. "I like my bed."

I am just starting to think that perhaps they did sleep through our shagging, when Remus enters the room. He sits down, throws Harry one hell of a filthy look (that does not go unnoticed by either of us) and says, "Good morning."

"Morning," we both reply. We sound slightly embarrassed.

After a rather tense breakfast (Remus was glaring at Harry and Tonks was glaring at Remus), Harry brought me home.

"I had fun," I say.

"Me too," Harry says. "I'm pretty busy Monday and Tuesday, but what about you meet me for lunch on Wednesday? I'll be in the Ministry, but at least I get a full hour for lunch."

"That sounds good," I say. "And you can come to dinner Friday night, if you want."

"Okay." He kisses me. "Love you."

"Love you, too," I say as he leaves with a CRACK.

I go into the house. It is a sunny Sunday morning. I walk into the kitchen to see Mum sitting at the table. She taps a piece of cloth and the hole in it slowly starts to shrink until the pieces of fabric edge up against each other.

"Good morning, Mum," I say. I place my bag onto a chair.

"Morning, dear," Mum says, giving me a smile.

She finishes up what she is doing and starts packing up her sewing stuff.

"Did you have a nice time?" she asks.

"Yes. It was fun."

She walks past me, stops and turns back to me. She grabs a hold of my chin and looks me dead in the eye.

"Mum..." I say awkwardly. "What are you--"

"You don't look well rested," she says matter-of-factly.

"Huh? What does that mean?"

She does not repeat what she says and continues on her way up the stairs, humming softly to herself. I go to the base of the stairs and yell at her retreating back, "Mum! What does that mean?"

I go back to the middle of the kitchen. Does that mean my mother knows Harry and I have shagged?

"Oh, Merlin."

The thought makes me ill.

Which was probably her plan all along.

* * *

A/N: My skank-ass Microsoft Word stopped working, so I had to write this in Wordpad. Please excuse any and all grammatical and, most importantly, spelling mistakes. I tried my best to fix any I saw. I hope you enjoy/ed this chapter. I am working on another.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I felt I should mention this: Most of the things that happened in the Sixth and Seventh book have happened in this story. However, some things are different because I was not able to predict that J.K. would kill EVERYONE in the last book. So, Luna and Neville WILL be together, as I feel they should have BEEN together. Grr. And Lupin and Tonks will be alive (der), because I felt they should have BEEN alive. Double grr. Oh, and Fred is alive. His death was just wrooooong. Sorry if I offended anyone. Believe me, I have met some people who feel that these books are sacred and everything written in them is like updated installments to the New Testament, and when I dare critisize anything, I get lashed out at. I have to vent my frustrations somewhere and it just happens to be here. (I will not go into that dreadful Epilogue. I pretend it isn't there.) Thanks for reading this (though you probably had no idea exactly WHAT you were about to read, but nonetheless, thanks). My updates will probably be a little less often then they were with Growing Up Potter. Apparently, in my writing absence, my muse leased herself out to other writers, because I can barely get ahold of her to help me through a chapter. And, dear readers (who I care so much for), you must give me my time, or I will write the crappiest chapter ever written in chapter-writing history. Oh! And some of you will notice in later chapters that Ginny and Harry are a bit older than in GUP when they have kids, and let me tell ya, I know already. They will probably be at least one to two years older than I mentioned in GUP. Sorry if that annoys people. :) Lastly, I must ask that you again excuse any and all grammatical and spelling mistakes. I went to buy Microsoft Word and it cost more than my car. I'd have to sell my kidney to afford it. I am still on Wordpad (skank-ass Wordpad is more like it). Right, so, before I give you my life story (_I had a happy childhood_...), I present you with Chapter Three.

* * *

Mum makes no mention of what happened in the kitchen this morning. She fixes breakfast and gives me the same kind, warm smile she gave me yesterday morning. She yells at me for leaving my clothes basket on the top of the stairs ("GINNY! WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT THAT? DO YOU WANT TO KILL SOMEONE?"). She gives me a few little chores to do around the living room. She prepares lunch with the same happy attitude she has had all morning. Finally, around dinner time, I can take it no more. I am sure this is my punishment. I am being punished with kindness and it is KILLING me.

"Mum," I say, walking up behind her as she is doing the dishes.

"Yes, darling?" she asks, turning back to me slightly.

"Can we talk?"

"Of course, love," she says. The dishes stop washing and Mum wipes her hands on her apron. She turns around and gives me her full attention. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Well..." I say.

Suddenly, Ron bursts into the room. "Mum, have you seen my orange jumper? Hermione and I are going to take a walk and it's bloody cold out. Damn weather, can't make up it's damn mind."

Mum frowns at Ron's language and says, "Watch your mouth. I think your jumper is in the closet off the hall. If it isn't there then I will no longer be of help to you. This is why I insist you do your own laundry, Ronald!"

"Yeah, yeah," he says, rolling his eyes dramatically. "You're welcome to come, Gin," he offers.

"No, that's okay," I reply. "You two go. I'm gonna talk to Mum."

"About what?" Ron asks.

"None of your business," Mum and I say at the same time.

"Jeez," Ron snaps, slightly offended, "don't get your knickers in a twist." He walks down the hall, throwing me a final glare and I wait until I can no longer hear him to turn back to Mum. She is clucking her tongue and shaking her head.

"I swear, I'm surprised he can function properly without help sometimes," Mum says. Even as she says this, she looks down the hallway fondly, with the look only a mother could show for her stupid son. She turns back to me. "What did you want to talk about, dear?"

"What did you mean this morning?" I ask, turning back to her. "When I came home you told me I didn't look well rested."

"You didn't. Still don't," she says.

"But...what did you mean by it?" I ask impatiently.

"Nothing," Mum says, giving a little shrug. "You just didn't look very rested."

I pause. Mum is giving me an innocent, bewildered look like she doesn't have any idea what I'm talking about. I'm convinced this is mother-reverse psychology. My mother is a complete pro at it. If I am not careful I'll spill everything out in the open in front of her. I can not even count the amount of times I have blurted out trusted secrets just because Mum raised her left eyebrow.

"What do you think I meant by it, Ginevra?" Mum raises her left eyebrow and I gulp.

I shrug. "I don't know, you tell me." I raise my eyebrow back, hoping it has the same effect Mum's does on me.

She shrugs again and snaps, "What is the matter with you, Ginny? I didn't mean anything by it."

"Yes you did!" I snap.

"Should I have meant something by it?" she counters. "You know, if you are so worried about what I meant by what I said, perhaps I should look closely into its meaning?" She puts a hand on her hip.

"I just.." I give a growl of annoyance and snap, "Fine! Be that way! See if I care!" And with that outburst of teen angst, I run up the stairs.

I hear Mum cry, "What has gotten into you? And pick up that damn laundry basket! If I fall and break my neck, I'll kill you!"

Once in my room I realize that, for the second time, I have let my own anxiety turn me into a complete ball of nerves. Chatty nerves, too. Perhaps Mum did mean that I simply didn't look rested. Now she's going to suspect it's because we did something we shouldn't have done because I am such a spazz!

I give a whimper of annoyance and place a pillow over my head. I try and think of something else and, before I can stop myself, my mind goes back to last night and of Harry. A goofy smile spreads over my face. If someone had told me that being with Harry would feel so incredibly good then I'd have done it as soon as possible, whether he wanted to or not.

My door suddenly bursts open and Hermione comes rushing in. I can tell it is Hermione without taking the pillow off of my head. For one, she is the only one (besides Ron) who bursts into my room without knocking, because when she stays here, this is her room, too. Secondly, she has this overwhelming scent of lilac or lavender or something. I'm a strictly one-man woman, but even I'm a little attracted to her perfume. Thirdly, as soon as the door closes over she shouts, "Ginny! You scared me!"

I take the pillow off of my head, wondering silently to myself how someone laying still and silent on the bed could EVER scare someone. I sit up, dragging the pillow onto my lap. Hermione is going through her closet looking for something.

"I didn't realize how cold it was outside! It must have been twenty degrees warmer last night, and now tonight I can almost see my breath!" She pushes various things aside. "Ron offered me his jumper, but then he started shivering and it got hard to understand him, let alone kiss him, so I thought I'd run back here and get my jumper." She turns around to see me sitting on the bed with a complete look of despair. "What in the world is wrong with you?" She pulls on her blue jumper.

"I had sex with Harry last night when I wasn't supposed to and I think Mum knows," I say. I give her a desperate look. "I completely cracked under the pressure!"

"Of?" Hermione asks. She's fixing her makeup in the mirror.

"The Eyebrow," I say.

"Ah, yes, the dreaded Eyebrow," Hermione says grandly. I can see her crack me a smile in the mirror. She turns around to me and says, "So what if your Mum knows? It's not like she's going to disown you or tell you can't see Harry. You're eighteen years old! If you want to have sex, then you are legally allowed to without parental consent...Though, I don't know anyone who actually verbally asks for permission from their parents when they're underage...but, anyways...Where was I?"

"About to babble off a cliff," I say dully.

"Right," she says. "Cheer up! Worse things have happened!"

I sigh. She is, as always, completely right. Mum isn't going to throw a tantrum and tell me I'm not allowed to see Harry, nor will she try to keep us apart. She saw what I was like when I wasn't with him and I've heard her verbalize her concern for me. No, she wants us together. She may not want a full detailed description of what we do with one another, but she certainly would agree that Harry and I together are better than apart.

"Do you want to take a walk with me and Ron?" Hermione offers. "We're going to walk into town. I'm going to try and convince him to get some ice cream. It may be sixty degrees outside, but when you've got a love affair with ice cream, nothing can get in the way of it."

"Well, as much as I'd like to watch you and Ron snog over ice cream," I say, "I should probably stay here."

"No! Come! We won't snog!" Hermione gives me a look. "I could use a nice calm night that doesn't end with dirt on my bum and tree twigs in my hair."

I sigh. "Well, alright."

As I go over to my dresser and search for a jumper, I can already mentally see Ron's reaction to my sudden appearance. He is going to be less than thrilled to see me, even though he invited me twenty minutes ago. Ron and Hermione have all this sexual tension from seven years of friendship and this past one dating, that it just started bubbling over at a rapid pace. We've gotten rather used to it by now, but at first it was a bit disconcerting. We now know: If Ron and Hermione are alone together, they are most likely shagging. It is an unwritten, unspoken rule of thumb we Weasleys and one Potter go by. Stumbling in on them a few times either seconds into a makeout session, in the middle of one, at the end of one, or (the worst) in the middle of shagging, has taught everyone their lesson. The funniest part about it? No one, not even me, is even a little grossed out. Sure, I'm never pleased to walk in on them doing anything other than playing Exploding Snap, but it certainly doesn't scar me the way I assumed it would. I'd rather have them happy and together, then have them the way they were my fifth year, their sixth year. That was an AWFUL year.

I head down the stairs with Hermione, passing Mum and Dad together on the couch. The radio is playing and Mum are Dad are talking quietly amongst themselves. They stop as we pass.

"Going for a walk?" Dad asks.

"Yes," Hermione says.

"Are you going with them, Ginny?" Mum asks.

"Yes." I narrow my eyes at her, daring her to challenge me on it. Yet again, though, she is calm and collected.

"Well, have fun, darling."

I just know it is killing her on the inside to know that her baby daughter had sex last night. How she manages to shield her horror and pain, I do not know, but I will wait for the backlash. I can see her true feelings simmering underneath that calm, kind exterior.

"I will," I say acidly.

I see Dad and Hermione give me a bewildered look, but Mum, AGAIN, takes no real notice of it.

"Good," she says. However, her eyebrows knit together in confusion. "You shouldn't stay out too late, though. I don't think you're feeling well."

I sniff. "I feel fine."

"Okay."

"OKay," I say, though it comes out louder than I expected.

"Well, then, we'll just get going," Hermione says, tugging at my arm. I walk with her until we go out until the cool air. Having been inside for most of the night, the cool air immediately assaults my bare skin. I feel myself begin to shiver as Hermione stops me and says, "What the hell was that?"

"What?"

"That in there! You sounded unhinged!"

"'Have fun, darling!'" I mimic Mum. "What did she mean by that?"

"Um...I think she meant have fun," Hermione says.

"But that's not what she really wanted to say," I insist. "She really wanted to yell and scream at me, for what I did last night."

Hermione gapes at me, openly and unabashedly, for a few seconds before finding her voice. "That is the craziest thing I've ever heard! Ginny, has it ever occured to you that maybe your mother simply doesn't..._care that much_?"

"That's crazy!" I snap. "I'm her only daughter. And just last night--"

"Ginny, if she has any inkling of what you did, I don't think she is really all that bothered," Hermione says, shrugging.

I let her words sink in as we start walking back to Ron. I've been expecting tons of screaming and some swearing and of course tears (oh, those dratted tears). What did I get instead? My kind, knowing mother who honestly doesn't seem as chuffed as she was last night. Perhaps I'm the only one who really thinks her knowing would be the end of the world.

"Besides," Hermione says as we near the lake, "your Mum knows me and Ron have shagged, and she wasn't that bothered by it. I believe her only requests were that we were careful and that he washed his own bedding from now on." Hermione gives me a side-eye. "You need to give your Mum more credit, Ginny. She's not as crazy or protective anymore as she used to be. Not to mention she's had seven children of her own. If she was really all that against sex, I don't think you'd be here."

"I guess you're right," I say, giving a little shrug. I start to feel much better as we reach the shore. I see Ron sitting on a blanket, tossing pebbles into the water, trying to get them to skip. He turns with a giant smile as he hears our footsteps, but it soon vanishes when he sees me as well.

"Oh...hey, Ginny," he says. He gives Hermione a slightly affronted look, before tossing another pebble into the water.

"Ginny didn't want to be cooped up in the house all night, so I invited her along," Hermione explains to Ron, as he stands and wipes stray sand off his pants. He simply nods and begins to pack up the blanket.

"So, what did you want to do?" he asks us.

"Ice cream, ice cream!" Hermione says. She grabs his wrists and shakes them. "I'm craving a nice, large scoop of cookies and cream ice cream on a waffle cone with chocolate jimmies!" Her eyes fall closed and she sighs.

I find it rather amusing that Hermione looks to be in near ecstacy at the mere thought of ice cream, while I am thinking there is nothing I'd rather not have more, and Ron seems rather pleased with the look on her face.

I, again, can not muster the disgust that is supposed to come from seeing that look on my brother's face. I suppose I am simply used to it by now. It fazes me not. Though, I have been one of the lucky ones who have never actually seen them shagging, so perhaps I am still unscarred by it. Harry has some lovely stories, but I try not to think about those, for they all end with him leaving the room in an angry huff or trapped under the covers pretending not to be awake.

"Ice cream sounds fine to me," Ron says. He turns to me, his eyebrows raised in question. I nod and shrug and he turns back to Hermione. "Ice cream it is."

We start the fifteen minute walk into town in relative silence. I am wondering more and more why I actually agreed to this walk. Yes, partly to clear my head and get out of the opressive feeling of Mum's understanding. Yes, partly to enjoy Ron and Hermione's company (which I actually do enjoy, especially when they aren't snogging or moaning). However as we get to the icecream parlor and Ron and Hermione make their selections (I decline. Something about shivering and ice cold substances do not mix with me), and we begin to walk all the way back to the lake, I suddenly want to go home. It is probably with what happened when Ron put the blanket out again and we all sat down on it together.

As Ron and Hermione were eating their ice cream, I was staring out at the water wondering what Harry was wearing, or what he did all day. Though it sounded rather distant, because I was entertaining the notion that perhaps Harry wore nothing all day, and quite enjoying the thought, I heard Ron say, "Want a lick of my ice cream?"

"Ooh, ok," Hermione replied.

"You missed some," I then heard Ron announce.

I then turned my head to see Hermione licking ice cream off of his wrist and then back up the cone it was dripping (!!) from. How ice cream was melting in this weather, I did not know. Perhaps it was all the body heat from Hermione sitting so close to him.

Well, I simply rolled my eyes and looked away again, intent on tuning them out or leaving, when Hermione nudged me. I reluctantly turned back to her and she said, "Can you hold this for me?"

"Sure," I replied, like the good friend I was.

"Mine too?" Ron asked.

This suddenly did not seem like it was going to end well. "Uh, yeah, sure," I said, and took his as well. "Where, exactly, are you two going?"

"I want to show her the, you know, bird's nests in the trees. It's the mating season, you know," Ron said.

"Thanks for that smidgen of trivia," I snapped, "but isn't it a bit dark to see the birds?"

Did they listen to me? No. So, where do I find myself right this very minute? On Ron's old Cannons blanket on the shore of the lake, shivering, while listening to Ron and Hermione grunt from fifteen feet away, just behind an overturned tree trunk.

I wait perhaps five, maybe seven minutes, before standing up. I announce, "Guys, I'm going to leave. As fun as this is, I'm getting cold and your ice cream is melting."

Hermione's head springs up from behind the tree trunk and she suddenly stands up. Ron then stands up as well and they hurry back to me, straightening out their clothes and each giving me a different look. Ron's is one of slight annoyance for one, interuppting him and Hermione, and two, for taking obvious licks of his ice cream. Hermione is looking at me with embarrassment. They each accept their ice cream and we walk back to the house in complete silence. I say nothing to either of them as I head up to my room. Hermione completely surpasses my door and continues up with Ron, turning to give me a parting smile. I roll my eyes.

As I open the door to my room, Sasha (the owl my parents got me after graduation) is sitting on my perch next to a giant brown owl. I immediately recognize him as Harry's owl, Shaya. As soon as he sees me he starts hooting and sticking out leg, giving me a pointed look.

I go to him and take the letter from his leg. As I unroll it, I see Harry's familiar scrawl. The letter isn't long. In fact, it is only three sentences long, but it immediately causes me to burst into laughter. It says, "_I just opened the fridge and there was whipped cream and chocolate sauce on the top shelf. We do not have ice cream in the freezer and upon further investigation, I find that it is BODY chocolate sauce. GET ME OUT OF HERE_!"

I run my fingers over the words lovingly. I can imagine his voice and his look of discomfort even as I sit here, twenty miles from him. I look over at his owl, who is waiting impatiently, and then reach for my own paper and quill.

I write, "_I just sat outside with Ron and Hermione. They invited me to come with them. They wanted ice cream. They then proceeded to dry hump each other. I had to hold their ice cream while they did it_."

I turn to Harry's owl and say, "OKay, Shy, just bring this to Harry. Oh, here." I reach into my drawer and give him a treat, before giving Sasha one as well. If I hadn't, she'd have pecked my eyes out. She is a very jealous bird, so it is a surprise to me that she even allowed Shaya into the room with me. The very first time he attempted to come into my room, she attacked him and the only thing I could get out of Harry's battered letter was 'sat' and 'cork.' I still don't know what it meant.

I watch Shaya soar through the sky before plopping down on my bed. While I'm in a corresponding mood, I decide to write a letter to Luna. It has been about four days since I've talked to her, which is slightly lengthy for us, and I am starting to miss her batty eyes. I write an invitation to her, asking if she'd like to meet me in Diagon Alley tomorrow and do a bit of shopping. Well, I'll be window shopping, seeing as I haven't got a job because when everyone else was in school getting direction and finding their purpose, I was daydreaming or drawing nakid dancing house elves in my schoolbooks.

"Can you bring this to Luna for me?" I ask Sasha. She seems to nod her head in agreement and I fondly stroke her feathers before letting her get on with her task. I leave my window open a crack so that Sasha can get back in without me having to get up. I then grab a cd player (a wonderful Muggle contraption Hermione spent all last month teaching me how to use) and put in a cd. As I put the headphones over my hears to the familar song playing in my ear (Hermione only had one cd on her, which she readily gave to me), I close my eyes and let my mind drift to the only thing it wants to think about lately: Harry. Or, more specifically: Naked Harry. I'm actually quite shocked to find out I've got the mind of such a huge pervert.

This pervert in me must have laid dormant, waiting for me to make a move in the right direction. As soon as Harry and I got together she (or he, I think I have the mind of a twelve year old boy) started rearing her ugly head. As I'd lay in bed at night she would let my mind wander to certain things that I had said were strictly off limits. When I couldn't have Harry, thinking about him kissing me or touching me were certainly not acceptable. How awful to think about something I was certain I would never be able to have and enjoy? Well, as soon as I finally accepted that Harry and I were going to be a couple (though I didn't know it was going to end so abrupt), it was suddenly all I could think about.

Having sex with Harry was a whole new can of worms. I've seen him naked and he's seen me naked. The hard part is over. Now I can concentrate on other, better things that I'm sure this relationship has to offer.

My mind is not just a pervert, however. There is my nesting-mind, who constantly screams almost all of the time, "MAYBE YOU'LL GET MARRIED! MAYBE HE'LL WANT TO MARRY YOU! MAYBE YOU'LL GET MARRIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEED!" It is a constant battle between, "I wonder if I can bend that far back for Harry to..." and "I wonder what the children will look like!" I've started referring to them as Nester and Pervert. Maybe potential baby names. See, that's Nester.

Anyways, I am indulging Pervert and letting my mind wander to all types of wonderful things that could come from a tub of whipped cream, when I suddenly feel something thump onto my bed. I jump, nearly out of my skin, mind you, and open my eyes. Shaya is sitting on my bed. As soon as my eyes open he sticks out his leg and I see a roll of parchment waiting for me. I feel a wave of pure happiness at the mere sight of it. For I know it will have something Harry has said and as long as it isn't, "You repulse me and I want to break up" I'm sure to enjoy it.

I unroll it and see written, "_You win._" and feel an immediate smile come to my face. Underneath that it says, "_Though, I've just gone down to get something to eat and both the body chocolate and whipped cream are gone. Remus and Tonks are nowhere to be seen. THANK GOD. Anyways, I want to extend my condolences for what you witnessed tonight at the hands of Ron and Hermione. I, perhaps more than anyone, know how it feels. I'm always here for moral support. However, if you're up to it, I have an even better story for Wednesday. Preview: their first SOMETHING. With love and a now unyeilding craving for whipped cream, Harry."_

I finish his letter with a giant, goofy grin. Shaya has taken off while I was reading the letter, so perhaps he wasn't waiting for a response. I let the letter roll back into my hand as I turn on my side. As Pervert and Nester fight for dominance over my thoughts, I fall asleep.

OoOoOo

When I wake the next morning, Hermione is standing over me with a glass of orange juice. I still feel the letter in my hand and blearily hope she didn't read it. If she did, she doesn't seem that chuffed by it.

I yawn. "What is this?" I ask, gesturing at the glass in her hand.

"An apology," she replies, handing it to me, "for last night."

"Oh. Thank you," I say, accepting it. I sip it and am happy there is no pulp. Dad loves pulp so Mum usually leaves tons of it in the juice, so I briefly wonder if perhaps Hermione de-pulped it. Boy, she must really feel bad for last night if she did. "It's very early, Hermione," I say, still dead tired.

"I know. Sorry. I'm about to leave for work, but I just thought I'd bring you some juice. Also, I feel I must let you know. Your Mum was talking this morning and if you don't calm down she's going to take you to a doctor and limit your sugar intake. She seems to think you were high on sugar yesterday."

I groan and let myself slide back down under the covers. I totally forgot all about yesterday and last night. Another gulp of juice helps me slightly.

"Well, I'm going to go. I don't think I'll be stopping back here tonight. I'll probably stay at my parent's flat in London. Oh, but I do have Wednesday off! Maybe we could go down to the lake and sunbathe?"

"It'll have to be early in the day," I say. "I'm meeting Harry for lunch."

Hermione's face lights up. "That's perfect! I'm meeting Ron for lunch!"

"Well, alright then. It's a date," I say. "Have a nice day at work. I'll see you tomorrow night."

"Okay. Get back to sleep."

Almost before the door closes, I fall asleep. When I wake some four hours later, the sun is now shining through my windows at an intense rate. I yawn loudly and sit up in bed, feeling quite rested. Perhaps Mum was right and I didn't realize just how tired I was yesterday. I smooth down my hair and head into the bathroom. I brush my teeth, wash my face and pull my hair into a pony tail. As I observe myself in the mirror I briefly consider a bit of makeup, but then decide against it.

I go back into my room and see a note from Luna that was left on my window sill by Sasha. I rush to it and open it. It says, "_I'd love to go shopping. I'll be there around noon time. Perhaps we could stop by the Potions shop while we're there. I need to make a new batch of droxie repelent to put in the garden. Luna._"

I look at the clock and see that it is now eleven o'clock. I stifle a yawn and head down the stairs. The smell of bacon, which had been strong this morning, has faded, but I see Mum has kept a plate warm for me at my seat at the table.

When I reach the bottom of the stairs, Mum glances up from her knitting to say, "Good morning, love. I was just about to come wake you myself. I kept a plate warm for you."

Remembering Hermione's words, and trying not to let my dramatic mind find hidden meanings in her words, I say, "Thanks, Mum," and take a seat, facing her as she knits. "Is it okay if I go into Diagon Alley with Luna?"

"Sure, love, that shouldn't be a problem," Mum replies, not glancing up from her knitting. "Would you mind stopping into the bookshop for me? There's a book I wanted to get for Charlie's fiancee, for her birthday."

"Sure," I reply.

"What do you think of this sweater?" Mum holds it up. "She might not be able to wear it for a bit, but I think the color would look lovely with her eyes."

"It's very pretty," I reply.

Mum beams over at me and I smile back. Inside though, I am kicking the crap out of myself. I've made a complete fool of myself because I am not very good with secrets. I don't like other peoples secrets and I especially hate secrets of my own. Thinking back now on what happened yesterday, I can't believe I acted like such a fool.

Part of me was embarrassed at the thought that perhaps Mum knew exactly what happened. That is completely understandable. No one wants their parents knowing what they do with their boyfriends. That is a very private thing (except where Ron and Hermione are concerned) and when it happens, it should be only yours to tell.

However, another part of me was upset that she didn't seem to mind all that much. I guess I expected she would yell at me or tell me she was disappointed and I'd feel awful; but the not saying anything, or rather, acting as though she didn't care, made it so much worse. Wasn't I her baby girl? Shouldn't she be crying over the thought of my loss of innocence? Shouldn't this make her fall apart? Hermione was probably right. Mum was certainly different, more understanding and even, if possible, kinder, than she used to be. Perhaps I picked the perfect time to start shagging.

I finish my breakfast while chatting pleasently with Mum. She and I have always been able to chat aimlessly about anything and everything. As long as I didn't cross the line or swear, Mum was usually a great person to talk to.

"What time is Luna getting here?" Mum asks, some fifteen minutes later as I am washing my dish and putting it away.

"Noon time, she said," I say. I glance over at the clock and see it is getting to be about that time. "She should be here any minute."

"Ginny," Mum says, "have you made any decisions about work?"

I cringe. "No. Not yet."

"I don't want to pester you, darling, but you might want to get a jump on it," Mum says. "You know you are always, always welcome to stay here as long as you like. So you musn't worry about that. However, don't you want to find a nice job to get started in? Everyone else your age is and--"

"I know," I say. My shoulders slump pitifully. "I'm way behind everyone else."  
"You don't have any idea of what you'd like to be?" Mum asks.

"No," I say sadly.

"Maybe Daddy can spread the word around the Ministry that--"

"No," I say firmly. "I'll find something."

Mum sighs. "Well, if that's the way you want it, then fine. I just want you to be happy. And I want you to be happy with what you do, and if you're successful as well, then that is just a plus." She gives me a kind smile. "You have maple syrup on your chin."

I wipe it off as a soft pop sounds from the living room. The next thing I know, Luna is strolling into the kitchen. I pinch my mouth together as I take in her outfit, trying not to smile. She's got black and white striped stockings on, lime green sneakers, a red skirt and a light pink tee shirt on. Her hair is hanging loosely down her shoulders in the same crazy, white-blonde waves as always. She has giant, spider shaped glasses on her head. One of Mum's scarves it wrapped around her neck and is dangling down her back and her left side.

"Oh, hello, Mrs. Weasley, how are you today?" she asks in her dazed voice. The way she asks the question makes it sound as though she is a bit confused as to why Mum is sitting in her own house.

"Very well, how are you Luna?" Mum asks. As always, Mum seems a little taken aback at the way Luna is dressed, but she never says anything to her. The first time she saw Luna out of her Hogwarts uniform she had said, "What is that girl wearing? It isn't Halloween!" When I told Mum that that is how Luna dresses, she proclaimed, "Nonsense! I'm going to make her some nice sweaters!" And Mum did just that. Luna wears them all the time, but she still pairs them with sparkly gold leggings, which seemed to throw Mum off even more. She finally let the subject drop. Both Mum and Dad have a fondness for Luna.

"I'm very well, thank you," Luna replies. "Are you ready, Ginny?"

"Yup," I say. I give Mum a kiss. "I'll be back around dinner time," I say.

"Okay. Have fun," Mum says. This time I do not think she is being sarcastic.

Luna and I walk to the fireplace and Luna says, "I very much like your skirt, Ginny."

"Oh, thank you."

"It'd be nice with some stockings."

"Yeah?" I say.

"I've got some spare stockings in my bag, if you like!"

"That's actually quite...Oh, okay," I say, as a pair of bright orange stockings are stuffed into my hand. I stare down at my pale blue skirt, and then back to Luna again. I internally sigh and begin to pull them on.

"Ginny, you've forgotten your..." Mum trails off. She walked into the living room with my change purse and then clamped her mouth shut when she saw the neon stockings. She sniffs. "Your change purse." She hands it to me. "Those are very nice stockings."

"Thank you," Luna says. "I made them myself."

"Did you?" Mum's tone changes and she sounds slightly surprised. She seems to appraise them again and smiles widely at Luna. "Very creative. Have fun."

As we get into Diagon Alley, we decide to head to the bookstore first. I grab a copy of the book Mum requested. We then head to the Potions shop. Luna spends nearly an hour trying to find all the ingredients she needs. She was far better at Potions that I was, so I step back and let her putter around. She seems to greatly enjoy the time she spends in here, and who am I to argue with that?

It is almost two o'clock before we head out of the Potions shop. Luna has a bag of ingredients that smells slightly like...death. I scrunch up my nose, and avoid breathing in through my nose. Our next stop is the clothing shop. As soon as we get inside, I head straight to the back, where they have all their knickers. I sigh over one pair after the other until I am near tears. They are all so nice and attractive. I think of the knickers I have on right now and could scream in frustration.

"Those are quite nice," Luna announces, coming over to see a matching knicker and bra set I've been holding onto, staring at, for ten minutes. She has a bright pink bra in her hand and tilts her head at my choice. "Does Harry like green very much?"

My face turns red slightly. I hadn't really thought of it that way. I just know that whenever I wear green everyone tells me it really does me good. Mum always makes all of my jumpers in green and once, maybe a year ago, I caught Harry staring at me. When I looked over at him he seemed rather embarrassed and spilled his drink. I was in a green sweater at the time.

"I don't know," I admit. "I like green."

"Why don't you try them on?"  
"Because I can't afford them," I mutter. "I don't have a job, thus I have no money."

"At least try them on!" Luna says. "What can that hurt?"

I sigh, but after many more minutes of her prodding and pushing, I reluctantly make my way into a dressing room. I undress and then slip on the knickers and then the bra. As I turn back to the mirror (half praying they make me look ugly so I can put them back without worry), I actually see my jaw drop and my eyes widen in shock.

"Holy shit!" I say.

I've never in my life worn a push-up bra, and I can see why Mum would be so resistant to let me try one on. My boobs look bigger and are higher up than usual. I turn around to stare at my bum and I am amazed that it doesn't look as big and menacing as it usually does.

"Ginny?" Luna is knocking on my door. "Can I see?"

"Uh...sure," I say. I kick my clothes out of the way and stand behind the door as I open it. As soon as she's in I realize she's walked in in only the bra she was trying on, and her skirt. Only Luna would do something like that.

"Wow. You look...different," she says, shaking her head slightly.

"A good different, right?"

"Yes."

I groan and look back into the mirror. "How much was this?"

"A galleon for the set, I think," Luna says. I groan in horror. "Oh, but wait! It's on sale," she says, taking ahold of the tag. "Half off."

I turn back to the mirror, sucking in my breath over and over again, thinking. What have I spent my money on recently? I keep saving up for something I'm not even sure of. Maybe I should splurge...though this money does have to last until I find a job, which seems as though it may never happen.

Just when I am about to sadly take them off and put them back, I glance down at the knickers and bra I wore today. Not only do they not match, my knickers have flying cows going over moons and my bra as a tear on the side. I glare at them.

"I'll get them," I say. I can't even hide the tone of defeat I hear in my own voice. "I'll get them!"

Luna leaves me to get dressed and I purchase the expensive knickers with a bit of shame. As we are leaving the shop, Luna with her purchases and me with mine, I catch sight of something across the street. It is Fred and George's shop. But that isn't what catches my eye.

Sitting in the right window, on the sill, as innocent as can be, is a small sign that says HELP WANTED. I look at for a brief second before I start to make my way over there. Luna follows, a bit confused to my sudden change in direction. We were about to head to the Quidditch store when I suddenly ran across the street.

As I enter the shop, and the bell overhead rings, I notice that is is busy as always. I see George in the back helping some kid get something off the top shelf. Fred is at the counter trying to ring everyone up in a timely manner. Neither notices me as I enter. I instantly head towards the back of the store where George is pushing the ladder back into its place.

"Hey," I say, nudging his back.

He looks over his shoulder and says, "Oh, hey, Ginny. What can I help you with, besides your outfit?"

Because I so desperately need this job, I ignore his last comment. "Well, nothing really, I just--"

"Great! If you can't tell, we're completely swamped. Verity quit two days ago and it just happens to be our busiest time of the year!" George begins walking up towards the counter.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," I say. "You're hiring and I need to be hired!"

George stops dead and I bump into him. He whips around and cries, "Are you out of your bloody mind?" before continuing up to the counter. He jumps behind a register and immediately calls someone over.

"Hey, Ginny," Fred says, slightly distracted as he rings up the que of people. Though, he does have enough time to say, "Might I say you look ridiculous today?"

I wait towards the side, arms crossed angrily and wait for the crowd to leave. It does so after about ten minutes. I am about to bring up the subject again when I hear Fred cry, "Luna, I'd be careful with those if I were--" BAM. "Nevermind." He shakes his head as a cloud of purple smoke starts to bloom from aisle six.

"What was...Is she going to be okay?" I ask, trying to crane my neck around to see what happened.

"She'll be fine," George says.

"Listen, as I was just saying to George," I say, starting again, "I see that you're hiring. Well, if you haven't heard, I am in desperate need of a job."

George and Fred burst into laughter at the same time. I glare at them as the door opens, the bell rings, and a group of kids walk in. They head towards the back, Fred narrowing his eyes at them as they pass. I try to get their attention again.

"What is so funny?"

"Nothing, really, just that Mum'd KILL us if we let you work here!" George snaps.

"Don't be crazy!" I snap. "She's much more supportive of this!"

"She asked me yesterday when I was planning on getting a real job," Fred says, raising his eyebrows. "She's just as unsupportive as always."

I go around the corner, and prepare to fall into baby sister mode. I tend to avoid this mode at all costs. One, it involves me crying, which I usually hate to do. Two, as soon as I cry it is always, "Careful! Don't make Ginny cry!" for at least six months after the incident. And three, whoever I do it to tends to know they are getting played, but either can't resist or finally caves in when I start wailing.

"Please, guys, I really need this job!" I say. I let a slight wobble come into my voice and let tears prick my eyes. They hear it immediately, for their turn to me, glaring.

"Don't you dare," George warns.

"I just..." I wait about three seconds and then I let big, giant, gulpy sobs spill out of my mouth. "I have no direction and Mum and Dad are pressuring me to find a job! All my friends have jobs! I just spent the last of my money on new knickers! If you don't give me this job I don't know what I'll d-d-d-d-dooooooooooo!" I sob.

Through my tears I see Fred and George exchange a glance with each other. I am thinking that perhaps I have won, when George says, "Ginny, listen, it simply wouldn't be a good idea to work togeth--"

"Please!" I cry. I fall to my knees and grab George around the leg. It is a good thing we look so much alike, for it would probably seem like he had just broken up with his girlfriend.

"Ginny, for the love of Merlin!" George snaps, trying to pry me off of his leg. "Get off of--"

The bell overhead rings and a mother and son walk in. The mother gives me a startled look and pulls her son closer. I hear Fred say, "She's fine. A bit loopy in the head. She'll be alright," as the mother pulls the son further back in the store. As soon as she's gone, Fred turns back to me with a glare, "Will you cut that _out_? You look like you broke out of St. Mungos!"

When I do not relent, George limps over to Fred, pulling me along with him and they mutter to each other for about two minutes before George snaps, "OKay! You win!" and tries to get me off of his leg again.

I release him instantly and jump into their arms. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" I say, in utter delight.

"Yeah, yeah," Fred says. "Oh, thanks for the snot," he snaps, wiping at his shoulder when we pull apart. "And we mean you will be here on a probationary period!"

"That's fine," I say, nodding along as they list a bunch of other meaningless things. I know they won't fire me now that they've hired me. I give them each a kiss on the cheek, grab my bags and prepare to find Luna.

She finds me however, with a giant, purple and black eye. I jump back as she comes towards me with the same dazed look on her face as always. She smiles over at Fred and George.

"Hello, Fred. Hello, George."

"Hey, Luna," George says. "You want something for your eye?"

She shakes her head. "No. I'll be fine."

"'Kay," he replies, looking at me with raised eyebrows.

"Well, we're going to get going," I say happily. "When should I report to work?"

They look at each other and then Fred says, grudgingly, "Tomorrow."

"Perfect!" I say with delight. "I'll be here at..."

Again, looks are exchanged. "Nine," George says.

"You won't regret this!" I say happily.

"Too late," they say together.

For the rest of the day I am happily thinking about reporting to my first adult job in the morning. This must be how excited Hermione was before she started her job a while back. No wonder she could barely sleep.

Luna and I part ways, Luna hurrying off to meet Neville for dinner (their first official date), and me to head back home to tell Mum and Dad that I got a job.

As I Floo back to the Burrow, I can barely contain my excitement. I am nearly bursting at the seams as I catch sight of Mum dusting around the living room. She turns back to me, presumably to ask me how my days was, when I shout, "I got a job!"

She stops and then says, delight written all over her face, "You did! Where? With who? When did this happen?"

"Fred and George's shop, with Fred and George and earlier today."

The smile slips right off of Mum's face. She and I stare at each other for a moment. She is breathing heavily and clenching onto the feather duster so hard, her knuckles are white.

"Well...that's just..." she says, forcing cheer. "Um...ARTHUR!" she bellows, turning around and heading towards the kitchen.

As she stomps away to complain to my father, I can not help the little happy dance I suddenly find myself doing. Suddenly, everything is turning around for me. Sure, this job isn't what my parents would have wanted (though they did tell me to be happy about it), and I don't think I want to work here for the rest of my life, but this is just the job I was looking for. This will be my transistion job! I can work here while I figure out exactly what I want out of life.

I run up the stairs to tell Harry.

* * *

A/N: This chapter was supposed to be a bit longer, but I decided to split it up. It will continue in Chapter Four. I hope everyone is enjoying this so far. My muse decided to pop in today and I got to finish this chapter earlier than I planned. I hope everyone enjoys it and enjoys the HBP premier tonight, WHICH I TOTALLY FRICKEN WILL!!! :)


	4. Chapter 4

Mum wakes me the next morning bright and early at seven o'clock. Unlike Ron who got awoken with a soft, "Come now, dear, time to start your day" I get, "Get up. Now. Or no breakfast." And then my door was slammed shut.

I sit up, rubbing my eyes and trying to remember why I was up so early and it was still soft, pale sunlight outside. I glance over at the clock and see that it is seven o'clock. Mum woke me up an hour earlier than I asked her to. I begin to grumble to myself and am just about to go back to bed when the door flies open again. "NOW, Ginevra!" Mum snaps and then closes the door over with a bang.

I tumble from bed and make my way to my closet. I sift through the clothes until I find a black t-shirt. I tug it on and then grab at a pair of pants. I then begin to bend over and backwards, lifting my arms above my head when I stand right again. Fred and George were very clear with me. While there would be no uniform (as of right now) I was not to wear anything too revealing. Actually, George said, "The last thing I need while you're here is to worry that some little toss pot is going to cause you trouble. You're enough of an annoyance anyways." Sweet, in his own little way.

I finally found a "proper" shirt and made my way downstairs. Ron is sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast. I plop down next to him and yawn. He looks over at me and grunts. I grunt back and he passes me the plate of bacon. I eat it happily and let my eyes fall closed for only a second. When I open my eyes again, Mum is pouring me a large glass of orange juice.

"Ginny, dear, Fred owled me this morning. He wants you to come in a bit earlier than you planned," Mum informs me. "Around eight or so."

"Eight?" I cry. I glance over at the clock. "Merlin's beard! They're doing this on purpose, you know!" I turn to Ron in support. "Tell Mum what they did to you that week you worked there!"

"When did you work there?" Mum snaps, raising an eyebrow at him. Ron glares over at me and I fight the urge to sigh loudly. Of course Mum didn't know. "Ronald?" Mum snaps.

"Last summer they needed a little help," Ron mumbles. "I needed the money, so I--"

"Thank goodness no one came up to you and asked for sex in return for money, because apparently you two would take them up on the offer!" Mum snaps. "Anything to make some spare money, no matter how it makes your poor mother feel!"

"Mum!" Ron says. The tips of his ears turn red. "It was one week. Over a year ago. And they were so awful to me that I decided to go to training to become an Auror."

Mum simply sniffs at him, places the pitcher of orange juice onto the table with a thud, and walks back over to the stove. As soon as her back is turned to us, Ron punches me in the arm as hard as he can (which is pretty hard). I cry out and tug at his hair. We soon start hitting and shoving at each other until Ron reaches over and gets me into a headlock. I try to go dead-weight and slip out of his grip, but it is no good. I finally give up and bite his arm, which was outlawed over ten years ago after Percy broke through the skin on Charlie's arm.

"Ouch!" Ron cries. He releases me, pushing off of my head, and twists his arm aorund to look at it. "You can't bite! That isn't allowed!"

"You can't put me in the headlock, Ron!" I snap. "In case you've forgotten, that, too, isn't allowed!"

"I can if you start it," Ron counters.

"But I didn't!" I snap.

"Did so."

"Nuh-uh!"

"Ya-huh!"

"I'll get the rule book!" I snap. A couple of years after I was born, Bill and Charlie actually sat down with Dad and mapped out rules for "rough-housing." Because, as Dad probably figured out early on, there were too many of us to always keep an eye on. We greatly outnumbered Mum and Dad and I'm sure they knew it, so he created a rule book for us. Mum has no idea (at least to my knowledge) that it exists. As the years went on, it got updated out of necessity. For example, I wasn't even in the book until I turned seven years old and started fighting back. Tired of running to my mother for every little problem, I decided to retaliate in my own way. Well, all seven of us got together and Bill and Charlie made up new rules. They updated most of the rules to include me, as well as some pretty sexist ones such as Rule 36: _A Weasley boy may not punch, kick, hit, etc., Ginny unless she did so to deserve it in the first place, falling under these three categories..._

"You deserved it under category two," Ron snaps. "You nearly had Mum going for my throat a second ago!"

"Well, I'm sorry!" I snap. "It wasn't intentional! It...slipped," I reply.

Ron glares over at me and then says, "Listen, Fred and George are gonna go real hard on you."

"I figured," I mumble moodily. I smooth my hand over my hair and find it is all messed up. I pull it out of the ponytail and yank it back to its proper place.

"They had me alphabetizing the entire backroom, just to take everything out the next day and place it on the shelf. Took me all damn day to do it, too, without magic."

"They didn't let you use magic?" I ask, incredulous.

"Nope." Ron bites into a piece of toast. "Bet they won't let you, either."

"Great," I mumble.

Ron glances down at his watch and groans. "Better get going." He downs the last of his juice. "Have a nice day at work." There is a giant smirk on his face.

I merely grunt a response. After he Floos out, I begin to get a bit nervous. Fred and George may be my brothers, and I their baby sister, but that means nothing. They may try to get me to quit, or they may try to get me to break down, but I won't.

As it nears seven-fifty, I stand up and wipe my hands on a napkin on the table. I find Mum and Dad, talking quietly outside, near the garden. Dad has the day off today and is planning on putting around in the garden with all his Muggle gadgets. He has something that looks like a mutated brush for sifting through the dirt. It looks like what we used in Herbology, but this one doesn't move on its own for you while you wrestle your plant into the earth. Also, the Muggle plants don't move unless the wind blows. I guess that could be seen as a plus.

"Well," I say, "I'm going to get going."

They turn when they see me. Dad gives me a broad smile as I make my way over to give him a kiss on the cheek.

"Have fun," he says. "Don't let them bully you."

"I won't," I say, though I gulp rather nervously. If Dad is worried about them bullying me, perhaps I should be more worried?

"Dear, I made you up a lunch. I left it on the table," Mum says, giving me a kiss on the cheek. She seems to be thinking about something, for she says, "If they give you any trouble, just let me know. I'll send them a Howler."

"I'm sure I'll be fine," I say, faltering. Okay, now I'm nervous. "I'll be back for dinner."

I go into the house, grabbing onto the brown sack waiting for me on the counter and walk over to the fireplace. I sigh heavily, and reach for the Floo powder. I Floo to the Leaky Cauldren, wipe myself off, and head down the street to the twins's shop. It isn't open yet, but the front door is open. I suck in a deep breath and open the door.

OoOoOo

**The Next Day**

The twins are officially evil, evil little gits. I don't know what I ever did to make them hate me so much, but apparently in a past life I killed one of them and made the other watch, because there is no other reason they would have done what they did to me.

When I got there yesterday morning, they were getting ready to set up for a huge sale that morning. They were all very, very nice to me at first. I was actually starting to feel a bit better about coming to work here, as though it hadn't been a massive mistake. They taught me everything I would need to know about working there. George taught me how to use the register, and the spell to stack everything up at once, instead of one at a time. Fred brought me in the back where all the extra merchandise is kept. He showed me how to work the backroom and how to read the labels so I could stock the shelves. I was really beginning to think that I was going to do fine with all of this, when it got to be opening time.

"OKay," I said, rubbing my hands together excitedly. "Where do you want me to start? The register? Or would you like me to work the store? Catch some theiving kids? Oh! Or maybe stock some shelves, or...Wait, why are you laughing?"

"Dear, dear Ginny," George said, still laughing. "You won't be doing anything like that today."

"Oh," I said, a bit dumbfounded. "What am I going to do?"

"This," Fred said, holding up a feather duster.

"I'm going to be...dusting?" I asked.

"Yup."

"What?"

They both spread their arms wide, as though to encompasse the entire store. I looked up and around at the second level and at all the stuff. It never occured to me just how _huge_ and _endless_ this store seemed. However, I knew it was a test. And I was more than ready for the challenge.

"Fine," I snapped, taking it from him. "Perfect." I look at it evilly. Stupid feathers. "I'll have this done by lunch."

George raised his eyebrows. "Without magic? I don't think so."

"Without...Are you bloody kidding me?" I exploded. "You can't be serious!"

"You promised us just yesterday that you would be willing to do anything," Fred reminded me. "Well, we need a thourough cleaning of the store, one a cleaning spell can't accomplish. However, if we had a little red headed witch with a feather duster, well, that may be just the cleaning we're looking for."

And then they stood there, eyebrows raised, waiting for my response. I hovered on apocoleptic rage and then smiled at them sweetly.

"It'll be no problem," I said through clenched teeth. "I am going to clean the _fuck_ out of these shelves."

They smiled. "Perfect," George said.

"Start now."

I turned on my heel and made my way to the second level. All the while I was sure steam was coming out of my ears. I had never been angrier in my entire life. Angry enough I could have killed.

It was going simply wonderful. I still don't know why they over reacted in the first place...

Well, okay, there was a little...incident. Nothing big. Well, alright, nothing _major_. Okay, no one _died_ or anything.

It was just nearing lunch and I was starving and tired as all hell. I was teetering on a chair from the backroom, cleaning the top shelf. I sifted the dust towards me and, before I could stop myself, I sneezed. That's being a bit modest. It was like my entire body bent forward and then sprang back to it's rightful stance with such a violent force that I lost my balance and...fell. I fell over the railing and onto a giant display of that stupid stuff that makes the entire room go black. I hit my head so hard I can't remember the name.

Well, while the entire store was in complete darkness (Yes. The weight of my body falling onto the display caused the _entire_ store to fall under a dark blanket. I believe that is the Universe's way of telling me to lose weight.), there were mass robberies. People ran from the store with their arms full of stuff before the twins could realize what had happened.

I tried to deny that it was me, but when they found me I was covered from head to toe in soot. It looked as though I had taken a swim at the bottom of someone's fireplace.

"Was that you?" Fred demanded.

"No. I have no idea what you're talking about," I snapped, coughing up some darkening powder.

George came back from the display I had fallen onto and snapped, "There is a Ginny shaped imprint in that display!"

I let them yell and accuse me for well over five minutes before snapping, "Well, obviously I fell over the banister!"

"You what?" they both cried at the same time.

"That's it!" Fred snapped. "Listen, Ginny, I'm sorry, but you're...fired."

"Fired?" I cried. "Listen, I'm sorry that all that stuff got stolen. I'll work it off--"

"It isn't that!" George snapped. However, he looked around at the ransacked store. "Well, it's not just that. The last thing we want to worry about is that you're going to fall to your death!"

"That was a once in a lifetime thing!" I cry. "That will never, ever happen again to me. Ever. It's a good thing that it happened! Because now I know it will never happen again! Like getting struck by lightening."

But they wouldn't budge. I finally gave in and realized it was hopeless. They had given me all the chances I was going to get and I had blown it. I admitted defeat and walked into the backroom to grab my wand. As I was wiping the soot off of my forehead in the mirror, I started crying. Well, bawling was more like it. These were not fake tears, but real ones. I was a hopless loser whose own brothers didn't want her to work for them. No wonder I couldn't get a job!

George walked in just as I was sniffling into my tshirt, because I didn't have any tissues on me. When he saw that I was crying, for real, he about killed me.

"Don't cry, Ginny!" he pleaded.

"Oh fuck off, George," I snapped. "If even you and Fred don't want me, then it's no wonder I can't get a real job!" The last part came out in a wail.

"Let me go talk to Fred," George said after watching me cry for thirty seconds. I watched him walk out and felt a surge of hope. And when he returned five minutes later, he was with a stern looking Fred.

I began crying again, this time with fake tears. These dramatic sobs caused my ribs to hurt, but I could see that Fred was more than a little freaked out. He wouldn't come any closer than an arm's length away, as though I were going to snatch at him.

He and George looked at each other, and George gestured at me and made a face at Fred. Apparently, they couldn't stand to see their baby sister crying because of something they did. How wonderful it was. I had never been happier to have all brothers in my entire life.

"One more chance," George snapped.

"One more chance and then you're cut off for life," Fred replied.

"Fine, fine! I'll be the best little worker you've ever seen in your entire life!" I cried happily.

"Great. You can start by cleaning everything up and putting it back in its proper place," George said. "That should keep you until about closing."

"Sure!" I said cheerfully.

I stayed cheerful for another minute before realizing how much work it would be. Especially since they wouldn't let me use magic yet. They wanted me to know the store with my hands so I could conjure things by knowing where they were and how they felt in my hands and blah, blah, blah. Really, it was punishment for being so damned cute.

When I wake the next morning, after working my freaking arse off, I am sore as all hell. My back is killing and my legs feel as though I've run for miles. I moan and groan as I get out of bed and make my way downstairs.

I am surprised to find Hermione sitting at the kitchen table reading. I immediately glance at the clock and see it is way past nine. She should have been at work since forever.

"What are you doing here?" I question.

"My morning meetings got cancelled," she says, looking up from her book. "I don't have to be in until two-thirty, though I'll be meeting Ron for lunch later." She surveys me and says, "You look exhausted."

"I feel exhausted," I say.

"How was your first day?" Hermione asks. She's looking over me as I hunch to the table in worry.

"Simply spiffing," I snap. "I fell from the second floor to the first floor and..." I break off wearily. "A bunch of other crap happened."

"I have the morning off, so do you want to do something?"

"Luna is coming over soon. We're going to sunbathe. Do you want to join in?" I ask, placing my head on the table.

"Ooh," Hermione says. "That sounds fun!"

An hour later I find myself walking towards the lake in my bathing suit, with Luna and Hermione at my sides. We reach the water edge and spread out our towels. I am settling in when Luna starts rummaging through her bag.

"I brought something," she says dreamily. "Here." She takes out a bag of tan things that look like badaides. Hermione and I exchange a glance.

"What are they?" Hermione asks worriedly. She has reason to worry. They could have some sort of wonky potion that seeps into our skin.

"Stickers," Luna announces. "I've cut out some shapes already."

"I still don't understand," I say.

"You stick them somewhere on your body," Luna explains, "and then while you sunbathe, the sticker will keep the skin underneath it whiter. It'll look like whatever you want it to look like."

I find a snitch that I like and place it on the side of my wrist. Hermione promises to help me charm it later, so that the wings flap around. I then take a plain rectangle sticker and, with Hermione's guidance, etch Harry's name out of it. It's sort of crooked and wobbly, but I figure it will look nice when it's all done. It'll be a nice surprise to him later.

"Where are you going to put it?" Hermione asks.

I nudge the bottom of my bathing suit down a little and place it right to the left of my crotch. Hermione's eyes bug out and she snaps, "Ginny!"

"What?" I say, smirking slightly.

"You should do one, Hermione," Luna says. "I did one for Neville and he was quite honored when he saw it. He also got very excited."

Luna and Neville got together in a very sweet and odd way. I finally convinced Neville to talk to Luna and try and bridge a relationship in Seventh Year. And he did. They became quite good friends after the War and up until about six months ago. That was when Luna realized (or more like decided) she liked Neville more than a friend. Instead of waiting for him to come around (which could have taken ages), she placed a Neville sticker right over her hip bone and showed it to him one night. According to her, though I have been sworn to secrecy, and managed to keep it that way because no one asked, Neville about died. She said his face got really, really red and he stammered for a bit before she took charge and showed him exactly what she wanted from him. They've been together ever since. She considers that they've been together as a couple for six months, but they only started dating last night. It was the first time they had really gone out like a couple. They were much more content to stay inside and...shag.

Hermione is still reluctant until she realizes that Ron will really, really like it. As much as it disgusts me, I try and convince her to do it. We'll all three do it for our special guys, who are busy at work today while we're off.  
Fred and George refused to let me come in today while they did inventory. Hermione's meetings were cancelled and Luna just plain didn't show up to the office today, though she is planning on meeting up with Neville later.

I decide to lay on my stomach first, and place my head down on the sides of my hands and wrists. I have still not recovered from that shit first day yesterday and find myself falling asleep.

"Wake me in thirty minutes," I mumble sleepily.

I slip into a dream in which Harry and I are swimming around in the lake. There is also Neville standing on the shore, waving at us to come in. Before we can, though, a giant wave comes and knocks us over.

I awake with a start to feel Hermione pushing me onto my back, before she flops down on her front. The sun hurts my eyes and I have to clench them shut at first, before I fall back asleep.

When I wake again, I am sweaty and thirsty. I can hear Luna and Hermione talking about packing up.

I yawn and sit up. Luna and Hermione are packing up their towels and shirts. I grab my towel and fold it over my arm. I look down and see that Luna's sticker thing didn't work on my wrist. I look around and see it lying on the ground. I crumple it up and throw it into my towel. It must have fallen off at some point. However, as I look down at my hip, I see the other one came out quite nicely. I smile and try to imagine what Harry's reaction would be to see his name right above my...well, you know.

"The sticker didn't work on my wrist," I announce as we walk back into the house.

Luna squints. "It's no use," she says dreamily, "I can't see in the sun!"

"Mine worked...I think," Hermione says.

We make our way back into the Burrow and let our eyes adjust. I yawn once again and try to shake that feeling from my body. I am not a napper. Naps are evil, the enemy to my teenage body. I try not to take a nap, because then I wake up feeling like utter crap, like right now.

I can hear Mum tinkering around in the kitchen. I pull my shorts up before she can come in and see the very beginning of Harry's name peeking out from under my bikini bottom.

"Ginny, is that you?"

"Yeah, Mum," I say.

Luna looks over at the clock. "Oh my! Is that the time?"

I turn to look at it. It is five past twelve. "Yes," I say. "Why?"

"Neville is expecting me at twelve thirty," Luna explains. "He found this very nice plant he wanted to show me. Says it's quite..." Her voice suddenly stops. "Why did you do that?"

I do not answer at first, because I couldn't tell if she was talking to me or not. I look over at her and see that she is staring at me, but not in the eyes. She is staring at a space above my eyes. I frown.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"On your face!"

"Excuse me?" I wheel around to Hermione. "What is she going on about."

"I don't...Ginny!" She clamps her hands over her mouth and I hear her laugh. She tries to quell her laughter by saying, "Go look in the mirror."

With a nervous feeling in my stomach I walk over to the mirror. At first I do not see what it is I am supposed to be looking at. It suddenly hits me with the force of the Hogwarts Express. My eyes widen and I let out a cry of surprise. It soon escalates into a scream.

"What is going on in there?" Mum cries, running into the room, wand drawen. "Ginny! What ever is the matter with you?"

"Look! Look!" I cry.

I turn to show my mother. Her face goes from one of anger to shock to annoyance all in the blink of an eye. She walks up to me and grabs my face, bringing it down slightly.

"Is that a...snitch?" she asks.

"Yes," I wail.

"Why is it on your head?"

"It was supposed to be on my wrist, but...Oh," I moan. "I was laying on my front and had my head resting on my wrist. It must have stuck to my forehead."

"That explains why it's so crooked," Mum says. She shakes her head. "I'll have to make a potion to get rid of it," She says. "It'll also get rid of the rest of your color."

"Fine! Anything!"

"I don't have most of the ingredients...You'll have to get them," Mum says.

"I'll even pay for them! Just fix this!"

"If you go get them now, I'll have you all ready in about an hour, an hour and a half," Mum informs me. I let out a groan. "What now?"

"I'm meeting Harry at one! We're going out to lunch!"

Mum sighs. "You can pick the ingredients up while you're out."

I whimper and touch my forehead.

"Harry isn't going to care," Hermione says.

"Yeah, Ginny," Luna says. "Especially when he sees the one on your--" She breaks off as I glare over at her and widen my eyes pointedly.

"You've got another one?" Mum snaps. "Where is it?"

"On my..."

"Foot!" Hermione cries just as Luna replies, "Back."

Mum looks at each of us in turn before shaking her head. "Well, regardless, if you want that thing off your head today, you need to get me those ingredients by dinner."

"Okay," I say. I suck in a deep breath and try to keep tears, real, true tears, from coming. I've done enough crying, I think. "I should go get ready."

"Me too," Hermione says. She walks past me and up the stairs.

"I'll see you later, Ginny," Luna says.

"I'll come to your house around eight. Is that okay?" I ask.

"Lovely," Luna replies.

As soon as she leaves, me and Mum look at each other for a moment. I am waiting for her to say something. I can tell by the look on her face that she wants to say something.

"I hope the other one, wherever it may be, isn't as cocked up as this one, Ginevra," she says. "I'll leave you a list on the table."

I nod and then turn and hurry up the stairs. Hermione is brushing her hair out as I close my door over and tug my tank top off.

"I can't believe no one noticed it before it got to this!" I snap.

"I couldn't really tell in the sun," Hermione says. "It was flesh colored!"

I look at myself in the mirror and find myself with a horrified expression. I turn back to Hermione. "Maybe if I draw attention away from my face, he won't notice right away."

"How do you plan on doing that?" Hermione asks.

I look over at the little blue bag sitting by my dresser. In it are the knickers I bought the other day, but have yet to wear. "I think I know," I reply softly.

I spend about ten minutes looking for the lowest cut top I own. I finally locate it at the very bottom of clothes in my closet. I pull it out and look at it triumphantly. It is a bit wrinkled, but I think I can fix that with a quick spell. I search my brain for the right words and then wave my wand. The shirt unwrinkles, yes, but also shrinks a bit.

I glare at it, but yank my bathing suit top off. I grab the bra out of the bag and slip it on. I adjust myself and then tug my shirt on. I glance down and see my boobs poking out from the cut of the top. I've never seen them so out in the open before.

I pull on a pair of jeans and then turn to Hermione, who is dressing in her business attire. She usually wears a nice skirt and a button-up shirt under her robes. She goes for the whole naughty secretary thing, though she does so by accident. When I actually mentioned to her that that is what she looked like, she seemed quite scandalized. For the next week she wore an over-sized sweater over her button-up shirt.

"Well? How do I look? Can you notice the snitch?"

"You look..." Her eyes widen and her jaw drops. "Obscene!"

"In a bad way?" I ask, looking down at myself self-conciously.

"Is being obscene ever in a good way?" Hermione questions. She sighs. "Well, I don't notice the snitch and I doubt Harry will either. Though, to be quite honest, I don't think he's going to notice anything unless it's popping out of your cleavage."

"Hmm...There's a thought," I say, more to myself than to her. I turn back to my mirror and brush my hair out. I let it fall down around my shoulders. After a moment, I pull it back so half of it is up and the other half is still down. I put it through a hair tie and begin on my make-up.

"Your mother is never going to let you out of the house looking like that," Hermione says, some time later. She is snapping the buckles on her shoes and looks over at me.

I ponder her words and then say, "I'll just wear my robes over my outfit."

Hermione sighs. "Fine. You win. Do you want to Floo together?"

I nod and then fix a slight smudge on my eye before turning back to her. "Maybe the four of us should get lunch together?"

Hermione pauses as she latches her robes around her neck. "Oh, um, no thank you. Ron and I are going to take lunch in my office today." I notice that her cheeks are getting redder by the second. "Thank you, though."

I debate whether or not to let it drop, and decide to press it a bit further. What has she got to be uncomfortable with by eating lunch with Ron in her office?

"Harry and I could bring lunch up and join you," I say innocently.

I see Hermione visably swallow before saying, "Maybe another time. I promised Ron we'd have a private lunch together today. This is such a tough day, training wise, and I know he likes to relax and unwind during this time, before he has to go back for another two hours." She chances a glance my way. "What?"

"Nothing," I reply, shrugging. "You seem twitchy."

She surveys me for a minute before leaning down and saying, "Can you keep a secret?"

"Of course," I say immediately. In all honesty, the answer is no. I can't keep a damn secret to safe my life, but I always say I can. There is a constant battle between the girl who knows she will spill the secret eventually and get one hell of a karmic bitch slap, and the nosy girl who simply loves a good secret, bitch slap be damned! I usually give into the nosy one.

"Well," Hermione says, "about six months ago when Ron started doing these training sessions, he'd come up to my office for lunch and he looked so worn out. And on one particular day he was telling me that he was thinking of quitting. He didn't think he could keep up, or that he was good enough to be an Auror. I wanted to give him a little boost of confidence, so I...went down on him."

I cringe. There it is. There is the karmic bitch slap I was waiting for. I don't know why I give into The Nosy One. She has yet to do me any real good, nosy, no-good bitch!

"And, whenever he has a day like this, I like to do it for him. That way he has something to look forward to for the first six hours, and then a preview of what is to come when he gets home," Hermione says. She seems a little embarrassed and says quickly, "Sorry if that was a little more than you wanted to know. I just didn't want you thinking that we didn't want to have lunch with you or something."

"No," I say, holding up my hand, "it's okay. That's...quite sweet that you do that for him." I'm surprised I got that sentence out without dry heaving.

We go downstairs together and head over to the fireplace. Mum is waiting in the living room, the list in her hand. She shakes her head as soon as she sees me.

"Here you go, love," she says, handing it to me. "Have a nice time at lunch. Hermione, have a wonderful day at work. Will you be here for dinner?"

"Yes," Hermione says, "but I might be a little late. Because the meeting was cancelled this morning, I might have extra paperwork to do when I get to work. I shouldn't be later than seven."

Mum nods. "Well, have a nice day, you two." She gives me a stern look and a kiss on the cheek.

"You first," I say, nudging Hermione. She steps into the fireplace, grabs some Floo powder and leaves in a green flame. I turn to Mum and give her a small smile. "Have a nice day, Mum." I grab the Floo powder, step into the fireplace and cry, "Ministry, Ground Floor!" before leaving in a whoosh.

When I finally stop spinning around, I hear the usual noise coming from the Ministry. I step out of the fireplace to see Hermione anxiously bouncing on her feet, waiting for me show up. She gives me a look of relief when she sees me.

"I have to run, Gin," she says. "Ron gets out in ten minutes and I have to run up to my office and check in. I'll see you tonight?"

"Mhmm," I say. "Have..." I trail off and then turn abruptly, walking towards the cafeteria, giving her a parting wave. Telling her to have a good day is like condoning what she would be doing, and I'd rather just forget all about it.

I make my way down the cool, grey hallways. I glance down at my watch once and see that I do have about ten minutes before Harry and I are supposed to meet. When I finally get to the bustling cafeteria, I search around for an empty table.

Instead, however, I see Harry sitting at a table far across the room. I feel myself break into a huge smile at the sight of the back of his head. I manuever my way across the cafeteria to get to him. His back is to me and he doesn't seem to hear me coming closer. I notice he is sketching something onto a piece of paper, aimlessly.

"Hey," I say, plopping down in front of him. "Did I keep you long?"

"No," he replies. "I got out of training a bit early." He seems a bit tired.

"Hard morning?" I ask.

"Yeah." He nods and then yawns. He finally looks up at me. I'm actually a bit surprised. He managed to keep his laughter in for about a minute. "So...what did you do this morning?" he asks innocently.

"I went sunbathing," I say. I can see the corners of his mouth twitching. His grip on his quill has tightened.

"You got some nice...color," he says. I can see his resolve breaking. He sniffs, turns away from me and then back just as quickly. He sucks in a deep breath and when he releases it, a laugh comes out. He instantly shuts his mouth.

"Harry," I say, warily. "I've got a giant snitch on my forehead. You can laugh."

Again, my sweet boyfriend tries to fend off his laughter before breaking down.

"What did you do?" he asks, still laughing after four minutes.

"Luna brought these stickers," I say. "She says if you put them on your body while you lay out, you'll get an outline! Well, I had one...somewhere and the other one was right here on my wrist. I fell asleep at one point and the sticker came off on my face. I didn't realize it and spent the next half hour baking an outline of a snitch on my forhead." I sigh. "Mum figures she can get rid of it by dinner. I have to grab some potion ingredients while I'm out, though."

Harry looks up at it and then away from it. His face still says that he wants to laugh, but he doesn't, so I assume he is fighting those feelings.

"And who were you out there with?"

"Luna and Hermione," I say. "We were all trying to get a nice tan for our respective others," I say wistfully. "Leave it to me to cock it up. Hermione has some nice color for Ron, though."

"Speaking of those two, you just missed Ron. He was headed out to meet Hermione," Harry says, offering me some crisps from the bag in front of him. I shake my head no.

"Where did they go?"

He shrugs indifferently. "Her office, I think," he replies.

"You know what they do in there, don't you?" I say before I can stop myself. I internally begin screaming at myself, 'That was a secret! A secret! Newsflash: Definition of secret means keep your mouth SHUT!'

He looks up at me, his expression wary. "What?" he asks.

I bite my lip. "Nevermind," I say. "I can't say."

"Okay...But, now I'm thinking of all types of awful things, judging by your resistance to tell me," he informs me. "Just tell me this: does it involve whips or bondage?"

"Dear lord, I hope not," I say. I sigh. Surely I am making this into a huge deal by my resistance to tell. "Alright, I'll tell you. Hermione takes him up there and she...goes down on him."

Harry grimaces. "I've had lunch in her office!" he says.

"I bet you'll think twice about that now," I say, smiling slightly.

He sighs. "That isn't as bad as I pictured. If you remember, I shared a room with Ron for about five months while they were dating."

"Oh. Right. And what was that promised story?" I ask.

"I had the utmost unfourtune at being present for the first blow job," Harry informs me. "They thought I was asleep and I had to lie there for all forty-five seconds of it and pretend I didn't hear what was going on."

I giggle, and glance down at the paper that he was drawing on. I frown and tilt my head to see what was pictured. He senses that I am trying to look at it and twists it around to show it to me.

"I know it's kind of weird," he says.

"Is it a little girl?" I ask, trying to keep any judgemental tones from my voice.

"Well...yes." Harry shifts. "It's a long story, but I had a dream during the War and she was in it and now I can't stop doodling her."

"You did not make that any less weird, f.y.i.," I say, teasingly.

Harry gives me a look and then sighs heavily. His shoulders shift and become slightly hunched. I immediately pick up on the face that this seems to be a sensitive subject. I do not want to pry or press the matter, so I am completely prepared to drop it and never bring it up again.

However, Harry says, "You know that stuff your brothers invented during the War that allows you to glimpse into the future?"

I think. "Yeah. Wasn't that the stuff they couldn't get a patent for, because it was illegal?"

"It wasn't illegal," Harry says, "it's just a frowned upon subject matter and they couldn't afford the insurance for having the product. So, they cut their losses and got rid of it."

"Right. OKay. Continue."

"Well, when they created their first batch, they gave some to me. I took it one night and I think it helped me...win the war." He looks up at me and then gives a little shrug.

"What did you see?" I ask quietly.

"Her." He taps the paper gently.

"Who is she?"

"I don't know," he admits. "But in my vision, she called me daddy."

I swallow thickly. My mind immediately starts racing with all sorts of thoughts: How old were you in this vision? Where did you live? Who was the mother? Were there any other children? Who was the mother? How old was she? And, most importantly, WHO IS THE MOTHER?

I say none of these though. In fact, I keep all my thoughts to myself and keep quiet until he speaks again.

"I don't think they really work, though," Harry says, laughing slightly. "They also gave some to Ron and all he saw himself with was a broken leg."

"Maybe it will--" I begin to say.

Harry shrugs and says, "Maybe. I'm not obsessing over this. It's just, sometimes, when I'm bored or don't even realize I'm doing it, I start to sketch and she's always what I end up creating." He looks up at me. "Do you think I'm, like, a freak, or something?"

"Absolutely not," I snap. "I once stole some of your hair and taped it into my diary. Do you think I'm weird?"

Harry's eyes widen in shock. "Yes. Very."

I gape and him and when I see that he is serious, I let out a cry of annoyance. "I'm the weird one? You draw _little girls_!" I snap, raising an eyebrow. "And I'm weird?"

"You cut out my hair and taped it into your diary!" he snaps back.

"I didn't CUT OUT your hair! I found it on the floor of the bathroom!"

"Right. I'm sorry. Totally normal," he replies tartly. "If you found my hair on the bathroom floor then that is _completely_ acceptable."

"Excuse me, Mr. All High and Mighty, I was just trying to make you feel better for being an obvious sexual predator!" I purse my lips.

Harry opens his mouth, but we both burst into laughter. We both realized, at the same time, how stupid this fight was.

"I'm sorry," he says.

"Me too. You're not a sexual predator."

"And you're not a creeper," he says.

I sigh. "Yes I am."

We laugh again.

"So, did you have a tough morning?" I ask.

"Yes. Very. It's always bad on these days," he says. He yawns, presumably by just thinking of his training session. "It's days like these that make me want to work elsewhere."

"What did you do today?"

"Just some basic defense spells in the Auror room. Nothing really special, but when there are no breaks for six hours and you're constantly on your toes, preparing yourself for an onslaught of spells...you get a bit worn out." He sighs heavily. "It doesn't help that people can come and watch you while you're training."

"They can?" I ask. "I didn't know that!"

Harry nods. "Yeah. If you wanted to, you could go sit in the Observation deck and watch."

"Maybe I'll do that sometime," I say casually.

"No." Harry's tone causes me to jump and look up at him. He is looking at me with a firm expression. "I don't think that would be such a good idea."

"Why?" I ask.

"I wouldn't feel comfortable with you watching me," he replies. "It would be kind of...embarrassing."

"Harry. I've seen you naked. How much more embarrassing could it get?"

"Wow. Thanks for that boost of encouragement," he snaps.

I realize how it sounds and smile. "I didn't mean it like that. I just meant that you and I have seen each other naked. Twice now. Well, except for that brief second in the Quiddich lockers at school, but I don't count that one. Anyways, I don't know why watching you train would be embarrassing for you."

"It just would," he mumbles. He is starting to look uncomfortable. "Plus, a stray spell could hit the Observation Deck. I'd much rather you just weren't there for any of that. We're all getting yelled at and we're all sweaty and it isn't much fun, and--"

"Okay." I place my hand over his. "Stop rambling, dear. If you don't want me to watch you train, I won't come watch you train. No biggie."

He smiles at me gratefully.

"Do you want to get out of here and go get some real lunch?" he asks. "I can't eat anymore of this cafeteria food. It's making me sick."

"Sure," I say, grabbing at my purse.

"And you can tell me all about your first day at Fred and George's shop," Harry says, taking ahold of my hand as we walk down the hallway.

"Oh, yeah. I'm sure you're going to get a kick out of it," I say dryly. "I got fired and then rehired."

"How did you manage that?" he asks, pressing the UP button on the elevator.

"Getting fired is a whole big story," I say, "but the getting rehired is very easy. I cry. Loudly. So loudly in fact that it causes a scene."

"I thought that was how you got the job in the first place," he says as the lift doors open.

"It was. It was kind of tricky to use the tears to get _rehired_, though. I really had to work at it. Wore me out, it did."

"I'm sorry," Harry says, shaking his head slightly. We stand in the lift as the doors close over. "I still don't see how crying can really make that big of a difference."

I turn to look at him, eyebrow raised. "Is that a challenge?" I ask slyly.

Harry smirks over at me. "I don't think you could call it a challenge," Harry says, shrugging slightly, "as I know who would be the hypothetical winner. Me." He presses the G button, for ground floor and I feel the lift begin to move.

I think over Harry's words. I let out a soft laugh and turn my attention back to the reflection of us mirrored in the lift doors. My mind is racing and racing until, suddenly, I come to the answer. I turn to Harry, watching as he watches the numbers light up as we pass them.

"Harry," I say.

"Hmm?" he asks.

"Can I please come and watch one of your training sessions?" I ask sweetly, innocently.

Harry snorts. "Absolutely not!"

"But I want to!" I cry. "Why not?"

"I've already told you why not," Harry says. He is beginning to look uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, Ginny, but I really don't think it would be a good idea. I thought we...agreed?"

"I understand," I say softly. I turn back to my reflection and, with more effort than one could ever imagine, I begin to make tears. I sniffle slightly, and turn my face away from Harry, sniffling louder. I see him turn to look at me through our reflections.

"I know what you're doing," Harry announces, as the tears flow freely. "You just told me exactly what you were going to do. You ruined the element of surprise!" I let out a sob and Harry gives me a slightly horrified glance before abruptly turning and stepping away.

The lift doors open and a little old witch comes in. She has a big, grey bun piled high on her head. She stands just at my shoulders. Within seconds of coming onto the lift, she can tell I'm crying.

"Oh, dear, dear me!" she cries, whipping a handkerchief out of midair. "What's the matter, dear?" She softly dabs at my tears.

"I've just had a row with my boyfriend," I sob, gesturing pointedly at Harry. He glares at me, but shrinks back slightly when the old woman fixes him with a steely glance.

It is quite silent for another minute or so before the lift doors open again and the woman begins to leave. "You keep that, dear, I can tell you may need it," the old woman says, leaving me with her snot-covered hanky.

"Th-th-thank you!" I say, still sobbing wildly.

She leaves the lift with a haughty sniff in Harry's direction, just as two men come on the lift. I wait until the doors are completely closed before letting out a shaky breath. One of the men, slightly older than his friend, looks at me through the reflection.

"Miss? I may be out of line for asking, but are you okay?" he asks.

I sigh, letting a slight wail come out of my mouth next. Next to me Harry breathes, "Oh, bugger it all to hell."

"I'm fine," I say, still sniffling wildly. "My boyfriend and I have just had a fight, is all. Only a little disagreement. You didn't mean it, did you?" I ask, turning to Harry. "You really want me there, right?"

There is a split second of silence before Harry says, "I'm sorry. Do I know you?"

The corners of my mouth twitch slightly, but, recovering, I turn to the other men and wail, "Do you SEE how he treats me?" I whip around to Harry, who jumps. The lift doors open and as the men are leaving, I throw myself at Harry's feet, crying, "Please forgive me! I didn't mean it! I'll always ask you how your day is going from now on!"

The men leave. They each have bewildered looks on their faces. I am almost one hundred percent positive that Harry and I will be getting an escort out of the building.

As the doors close over, Harry bends down and hisses in my ear, "Okay. I believe you. CUT IT OUT!"

My tears instantly evaporate and I smile widely at him. I get to my feet and give him a smug smile.

"I wouldn't look too pleased with yourself," Harry informs me. "You look rough." I glower at him.

The doors close and I use my reflection to wipe at the make up under my eyes. Once I get to looking quite normal again, I turn back to him with a little smirk on my face.

"See?" I say. "Works like a charm!"

"Only because you caused a scene!" Harry snaps, still looking unimpressed. "Everyone was thinking I must beat you in this elevator on my lunch breaks!"

I can't help a small giggle from escaping my lips. He is still turned away from me, facing forward. He shakes his head and mutters silently to himself. Before I can stop myself and I stand on my tip-toes and plant a kiss on his cheek. He gives me a side-eye that seems angry, until he cracks a smile.

"I would pick a totally mental girl to be my girlfriend," he muses and then sighs. "Ah, well." He then kisses me for the first time that day. I nearly melt onto the floor and slide through the cracks.

A moment later, the lift doors open and Ron and Hermione are giving us surprised looks.

"Hey, guys!" Hermione says, coming onto the lift and pressing the number 4, which lights up accordingly. She turns to us. "Where are you heading off?"

"Lunch," I say. "You?"

"Lunch," Hermione says, holding up a styrofoam container of food. "We're going to have lunch in my office today. I simply can't take time away from the office! I have too much work to do!"

"Yeah," Harry says, "you have such an important _job_ to do."

My eyes widen and I turn my face away from Hermione and Ron instantly. Harry's tone wasn't lost on anyone. I tug on Harry's arm and glare at him. He simply raises an eyebrow, completely unapologetic. After a moment, I turn towards Hermione. She's giving me a filthy look and Ron is looking between us, trying to decide if he wants to get into it, if it's worth the effort.

Hermione and Ron's stop comes.

"Bye, Gin. Harry, I'll see you in a bit," Ron says.

"Bye, guys," I say.

"Ginny. I'll _talk to you later_," Hermione says pointedly. "Harry." She gives him a look and then hurries after Ron.

I wait until the doors are closed completely, before turning on Harry and smacking his arm. He simply looks down at me with a triumphant look.

"What did you do that for?" I snap. "She's pissed!"

"That's my special ability," Harry says. "You cry and I..."

"Tattle? You tattle? Congratulations, you're five years old." I turn back to face the doors. A moment later they open and Harry and I depart into the main foyer.

We walk to Diagon Alley in silence. I still find myself tossing him a glare every now and again as we make our way to the Potions shop. It isn't until we are safely outside (and away from that awful smell), that my anger begins to abate. It helps when he offers to buy me lunch outside on the patio of a small cafe.

We sit down under the canopy with our lunch.

"So, when is your Mum going to have the snitch off your head?" Harry asks, gesturing at it with his pinky. Currently, both his hands are wrapped around a giant sandwich that looks a lot tastier than mine. Though, there is something yellow poking out from under his bread. Mustard is evil.

"By dinner tonight," I say, wiping the corner of my mouth. "Oh!"

"What?"

"Er, nothing," I say, frowning. It suddenly occured to me that the other outline that I had worked so hard to get (laying out in the hot sun for a half hour is hardwork. Never let anyone tell you otherwise!), will be disintegrated when I drink Mum's potion.

Harry looks at me and then goes back to eating his sandwich. I glance over at the clock and sigh. I had such a lovely plan all worked out. It involved a lot of seducing and love making over the mere sight of his name on me. Damn it all to hell!

"Why do you look so upset? Is your sandwich no good?" Harry asks.

"No, it's fine," I say softly, thinking. "Hey," I say suddenly, "what time do you need to be back for training?"

"Two," Harry replies. "We're going to finish up one last defense spell and then we're free to go. Why?" He raises his eyebrows at me.

"Are Remus or Tonks going to be home?"

"Er...no, I don't think so. But I have to get back to the Ministry soon...Why?"

"Because," I say. I slouch down in my seat and pull my robe away from me. I see Harry's eyes immediately snap to my cleavage before going back to my face. His eyes furiously work to stay on mine and not where they really want to go. "I did something for you, as a surprise," I say, pulling to waist of my jeans and knickers down ever-so-slightly. "But as I've now got to get this snitch off of my head..." I trail off. Harry's eyes are now locked on the little bit of skin I'm showing him.

Instead of looking completely entranced or in awe as I would have thought, he stares at it for a moment before frowning. He tilts his head to the side and squints at it.

"I'm sorry, but what does that say? Hammy?"

"No!" I cry. I look down at it. "Those are Rs, Harry! It says Harry, you twat!"

"Oh." His brows knit together. "Ooooh," he says, drawing it out in comprehension. His cheeks suddenly turn bright red. "That is a good surprise." He glances down at his watch and then back at me.

Just as I am preparing to think of doing this _all over_ again, Harry's hand flies to the back of his head to smooth down his hair. This gives me hope. This means he's thinking.

"You know," I say softly, leaning in, "if we go now, I could show it to you in all it's glory." I raise en eyebrow. "I can't very well do that here."

Before I realize what he's doing, Harry's hand is over mine and I'm suddenly feeling the force of being sucked through air and space. I hate Apparating. It makes me feel as though my insides are going to be squeezed out of my arse.

When we land, I immediately recognize the living room of Tonks and Remus's house.

"You could have given me a little warning!" I cry.

"Sorry," Harry says, but he leaves before I can tell him his apology is acceptated. I hear him run into the kitchen and yell, "Tonks?" He comes back out into the living room and walks half way up the stairs. "Lupin? Are you home? Is anyone here?" He waits three seconds before turning and coming back to face me. "We're alone," he announces.

"So, I assume you want to see it then, right?" I ask teasingly. I slip my robe off and fold it over the back of the couch. Harry is still standing at the stairs, looking at me as though riveted to the spot. "Do you...I mean, your room would be best, yes?"

"Er, yes," Harry says, shaking his head a bit. "Yes."

I walk behind him up to his room. He rushes ahead of me and closes the door over before I can even make it to the base of the stairs. When I nudge his door open, he is hurriedly waving his wand around, causing clothes and books and other things to go flying across the room into his closet.

"Impressive," I say, smiling slightly. "That looks like something Fred and George would have come up with. Cleaning, but not really."

I go to the bed and sit down. Harry is beside me before I can even hope for him to be there. I smile over at him as he sits back on his heels, looking at me expectantly.

"Oh, yes," I say, tugging on my button and zipper, "I have to show you something, right?" I kick my shoes off. Next comes my pants. I am left in just my knickers and shirt. Trying to shake off the second-long surge of self-conciousness, I turn to Harry. Just seeing the way he is looking at me gives me a boost of confidence. I roll my knickers down so he can clearly see what is outlined for him.

"It still looks like Hammy," he says.

I giggle. "Well, it says Harry," I inform him. I grab for my jeans and start to tug them on when he catches my wrist with his hand. I turn to him questioningly.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"I thought...Don't you have to get back to the Ministry soon?" I ask, faltering slightly. I turn towards the little clock on his wall and frown at it. "In ten minutes."

"That is plenty of time," Harry says, smiling down at me. "And then some." He helps me get my jeans off of my foot and then tosses them onto the floor. "Besides," he says, pulling my legs until I slide onto my back, resting against the pillows, "I want to thank you."

"Thank me?" I ask weakly. His mouth finds my neck and I suddenly have trouble breathing. My eyes flutter closed as his hand snakes underneath my shirt.

"Yes," Harry replies. "For doing something so nice for me, I thought I'd do something nice for you."

I am just about to ask him what that might be, when all the breath is sucked from my lungs as he shows me. My eyes fly open and I start making whiny, desperate noises that come from the back of my throat. They soon get deeper and deeper until they are moans that are spilling from my mouth at a rapid rate. I've never felt something so sharp and acute and _good_. This is different than sex. Different not in a better way, but in it's own good...no, scratch that, in a _bloody amazing_ way. It all comes to a sudden end, with me panting uncontrollably, my hands clenching and unclenching onto the bedspread beneath me (and at one point accidentally smacking Harry in the back of the head), and Harry's name coming out of my mouth as though it were a prayer.

Finally, my world stops spinning. That was single-handedly the hottest, most intense thing that has ever happened to me in my entire life. Harry is kissing his way back up my body and when he gets to my lips, I can literally feel the smile on them. He has a proud and satisfied look on his face, though it slips away when he glances down at his watch. He curses.

"I'm going to be late!" he announces. He gives me another kiss. "Did you like that?"

I can only nod dumbly. My voice seems to have left me for the moment.

"I'm going to be back in about an hour or so," he says. "Do you want to wait here for me?" Again, I can only nod my head yes. I am looking at Harry with what I can assume is a stupefied expression. He smiles down at me fondly and kisses me. I don't even have the strength to kiss him back yet, which he doesn't seem to mind. In fact, it seems to please him even more, as though my response to what he just did to me was just as satisfying as what I got in return.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," Harry says, grabbing at his cloak, which had been flung off at some point. "Love you."

I find the strength to raise my hand slightly, before it flops back down at my side. Harry gives me one last, parting smile before Apparating with a crack.

It takes me a few minutes to regain movement in the rest of my limbs. I let out a small laugh and wipe the sweat off of my upper lip. I laugh harder this time and then sigh contentedly, staring up at the ceiling.

If this is Harry's response to seeing his name outlined on my hip, then I'm tattooing his name on my fucking forehead.

* * *

A/N: I would really, really appreciate feedback on the story as it progresses. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far, and poo to those who haven't. :) Also, anyone interested in any other updates on other stories, should check my profile and then DEFINITLY send me feedback on that. Thanks again. I hope everyone is enjoying this story so far. I'm not sure how far I am going to extend this, but I am certainly enjoyed writing it. This time, instead of the usual writer's block where I am struggling to put something together that is half-way decent, I got writer's overload. I had so much I wanted to shove into this chapter it was crazy. Chapters 2, 3 and this one, 4, were supposed to be chapter 2. I had to split it up because it was way too long.

P.S. Still on Wordpad. In the process of obtaining Microsoft Word. Okay. Enough Author's Note!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Ugh, sorry for the wait! See other Author's Note below.

* * *

For the next month Harry and I see each other as much as possible. Fred and George have me on a strict schedule: Mondays-Fridays, nine to five. The first week was absolute hell (probably on purpose) and it wasn't until I saw my paycheck that it suddenly became worth it. I now know why people work! Yes, I have to put up with their crap five days a week, but for what they're paying me, I'd put up with far more! I'll never let them know that, though. Oh hell no.

A few nights a week Harry and I would have dinner either with my family at the Burrow, or with Tonks and Remus at their house. We would sit through dinner, chatting with whomever we were eating with, help clean up after dinner and casually excuse ourselves for a walk. We'd then shag like there was no tomorrow wherever we could find. To be quite honest, we'd been rather careless about where we've done it more than once, but as we haven't been caught, it hasn't seemed too dangerous until later. We've almost been seen by Remus on more than one occassion. I can't even imagine what that would even be like. I'd like to not think about it much.

I've slowly stopped having insecurities, which has turned me into quite the hornball. All day at work as I'm cashing people out, or dusting the shelves, I'm having these wonderful little fantasies about Harry. One more than one occasion I've had to place a cooling spell over myself to calm me down. Fred and George think I'm coming down with a fever. I'm going along with it. Maybe I'll get a sick day out of it.

Our relationship seems to be on this wonderful cruise-control of absolute amazingness. I can't even find correct words to describe my absolute euphoria. Last year at this time I was a grumpy little bugger, tip-toeing around Harry in fear he'd run off and I'd never see him again. Now, I have to tip-toe around Harry so I don't wake him up and have him make another go at me when I'm trying to get ready. I wish I could go back in time and comfort myself. I'd say, "It'll be all right, Past Ginny, you'll see him naked." That little bit of information would have saved me a lot of tears, which I need to guilt trip my brothers.

Speaking of brothers, Harry admitted to me that he informed Ron about the level of our relationship. I was outraged.

"Harry!" I had cried, covering my face with my hands. "_Why_ would you do something like that?"

"He kind of already knew, Ginny!"

"Huh?"

"Well, I'm assuming he did. He was the one who brought it up, not me. His exact response was, 'I kind of figured. For all the walks you two take you sure as hell aren't losing any bloody weight.'"

I frown. "Oh."

Harry shrugs. "I don't think he cared that much."

I want to sigh in relief, but, as with Mum, I'm a little miffed that he didn't care either. Doesn't anyone care how I live my life? Gosh, what an awful, supportive family I have.

Well, tonight, Harry and I are having an actual date night after dinner. We are going to go out like a real couple before we shag. It makes me feel like such a lady. See, if it isn't obvious from above, all we've been doing lately is shagging. Lots and lots of shagging. Real dates have seemed to fall to the way side as opposed to shagging. And while it's not that I don't enjoy shagging Harry, I'd like to feel like a girl in a real relationship. Right now, I sort of feel...dirty almost. There's a part of me that knows Harry loves me dearly, deeply, but there's another part of me that is starting to get nervous. I feel that we might be talking less and less and soon we'll run out of things to say and we'll break up and...I can't even think about it.

As I am sitting on my bed, snapping the snap on my sandals, I hear a knock on my door. Fearing it might be Harry early, and he'll try and shag me before we go out on our real date, I cry, "Er...just a minute. I'm just about dressed!"

"When you're done, come up to my room. I want to talk to you," I hear Ron say.

"Oh. Um, sure okay. Be right there."

I sit back down on the bed and frown. What on Earth could that be about? I finish putting on my other sandal, stand up, check myself out in the mirror and then head up to Ron's room. He is pacing back and forth, rapidly, when I finally get up to him.

"Hey. What's up?"

Ron wheels around to face me and says, "Here" and thrusts a little velvet box in my hands. I stare down at it for a while before sucking in a deep breath and opening the top lid. Just as I expected, snuggled down in a silk cushion is a diamond ring.

"What do you think?" he asks.

"I think it's lovely, but I don't love you that way," I say before I can stop myself. I look up to see Ron giving me a look and quickly say, "It's really lovely, Ron."

"Really?"

"Really." I clear my throat. "Um, when are you planning on asking her?"

"Tonight," he says. "Do you think she'll say yes?"

"Of course!" I snap, giving him an incredulous look. I glance back down at the ring and shift it just a bit. The diamond catches the soft light from Ron's room and glints. "She'll love it."

"I'm a bit nervous." Ron takes the box out of my hands and stares down at the ring. "I've been saving up every spare coin to pay for this ring," he informs me. "That and a flat."

"You're getting a flat?" I ask.

"Well, we can't be a newlywed couple here, Gin!" He shakes his head. "To be quite honest, I started putting money away for a ring after our first date." He shrugs a little. "We've talked about it a few times, and we seem to be on the same page."

"Well then," I say. "I'm happy for you. Where are you taking her?"

"Where we went for our first date," Ron says. He is looking down at the ring. "She's been kind of distracted lately, swamped with work, you know. We barely get to see each other anymore." I don't mention that they seemed to see enough of each other the other night when I walked in on them shagging. We'll just let that go to the back of my brain and DIE.

"She's going to be very happy, Ron," I say, rubbing his arm.

A few weeks ago I asked Hermione if she thought Ron would propose to her soon. She had played it off really cooly at first and said, "I don't know. I don't think so." She looked over at me and then suddenly said, hurriedly, "Why? Has he said something to you?"

"No," I had replied. "I was just curious. You'd say yes, though, right?"

"Oh, Ginny, of course," Hermione replied breathlessly. We were setting the table for dinner and she had a cloth napkin in her hand, which she suddenly clenched. "Of course I'd say yes." We finished setting the table and said said, "You really haven't heard anything?"

"No," I said.

"Oh." Her shoulders sagged down in disappointment,

"You know," I say to Ron, "she's going to be very excited."

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah," I reply. "I asked her about marrying you a few weeks ago and she seemed pretty excited about it."

"Can I tell you a secret?" Ron asked.

"Sure!" He was, after all, trusting me with the secret of his ring.

"I overheard you that night," Ron says. He places the ring back in his pocket and shrugs.

"You were eavesdropping?" I snap.

"No," he snaps back. "I was coming downstairs and I happened to hear what you were talking about. I hadn't even really been planning to ask her until this winter, but when I heard her...I wanted to ask her as soon as possible. I took my last paycheck, as well as what I had already saved and went to get the ring. I hope she likes it."

"I'm sure she will," I say.

"Harry helped me pick it out," Ron says. "He told me Hermione pointed it out to him last year and mentioned it was her 'dream ring' or 'fairy tale ring' or something fruity like that." He shakes his head and turns back to the mirror to brush out his hair.

"Harry's known about this?" I snap.

"Yup," Ron replies. "And before you get your knickers in a twist, he was sworn to secrecy."

I feel like saying, "SO!" because I've gotten stuff out of Harry rather easily. It's a good thing none of the Death Eaters found that little spot on his neck, or he would have given up all types of secrets. Though, I never did really ask him about it.

Ron finishes with his brush and places it down on his dresser. He then begins fiddling with his hair with his fingers. I sit on the edge of his bed, my eyes fixated on the little velvet box that he had taken out of his pocket and placed on the dresser.

"So, what are you and Harry doing tonight?"

"He's taking me out on our first real date in over a month," I say, somewhat distractedly. I briefly wonder if Harry managed to glance around a ring shop for me, before realizing how foolish that would be. We've only been dating for about three months. Crazier things have happened, though.

"I thought you guys went out after dinner last night," Ron says.

"Yeah, but all we did was sh--" I break off, my eyes widening as they slowly come back into focus. I forgot who I was talking to for the briefest of seconds. This was not Hermione or Luna or even a perfect stranger. This was Ron. And now he is giving me a rather disgusted look. "We didn't really go out, or anything, I mean, we just--"

"Stop speaking," he says, giving me a firm look before averting his gaze from mine.

"I'm going to finish getting ready," I say. "If you hear Harry Floo in, send him up to my room, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Ron says, and grumbles something else I don't quite catch before the door closes behind me.

I am just starting on my hair when I hear distant voices from downstairs and know Harry must be here by now. I study myself in the mirror and decde I look alright, I might need to do something else with my hair, though.

Like I said to Ron, this will be the first time Harry and I have actually gone out in public together in a while. Harry is more content to stay in, and thought 'in' isn't always somehwere inside, it is inside me. I am starting to fear that all he wants from me is sex, though I'm sure it isn't true. It's just, the more we shag, the more concerned I get about it. However, I'm sure tonight will go on without a hitch and everything will be fine. I suck in a steadying breath.

Harry comes to stand behind me as I am finishing my hair. I finally get it controlled so that it doesn't look like a rabid possum. I see Harry fling his cloak onto my bed, and turn towards me, a smile on his face.

"You look beautiful," he says softly.

"Thank you," I reply. "I'll be done in a second."

As I am studying myself in the mirror, I feel Harry's hands come and slide around my waist. I break out into a slight shiver and smile at his reflection. It slides off my face when Harry's mouth suddenly finds my neck. I immediately react, my teeth coming over my bottom lip, my eyes falling closed. He is anything but a bad kisser, I'll say that much.

However, I am suddenly reminded that we had a date tonight. And damn it, I want my date!

"Harry," I say, even as my hand reaches back and slides up his cheek into his hair. "We can't do this now. We're going out."

"Let's stay in," he says, his hands sliding lower down my hips.

"No," I say firmly. I push back against him and shove him off of me. He seems caught off guard and stumbles back slightly. "Sorry."

"What's the matter?" he asks.

"Nothing," I say immediately, but change my mind. "It's just...I'm not just a vagina, Harry!"

He looks at me in disbelief. "Excuse me?"

"I'm not just a vagina! I'm not just this...this shaggable plaything for you! I'm your girlfriend! And I deserve a real date and I deserve intelligent conversation! All we do is shag, Harry! I'm getting mushy, over-sexed brain!" I try not to get hysterical. "I'm afraid that all you want from me is sex." There I said it. I shouldn't have, but I did.

"Are you crazy?"

"No! I'm not crazy!" I snap. "What did we do yesterday? We shagged! What did we do the other day? We shagged! What did we do seven times last week? We shagged!"

"We didn't shag on Tuesday," Harry informs me.

"It's the same thing!" I cry. "Mouths were places, orgasms were had! The point is, I want to be treated like a lady! You treating me like this is something I do not appreciate!"

"Treating you like what?" he snaps angrily.

"Like...a prostitute or something!" I yell. "I deserve to be treated to a date, and to be treated better, okay?"

Harry stares at me for a long time before I drop my gaze. My breathing is coming in quite rapidly and I know what just happened was completely unacceptable. I try to steady myself to look up at him.

"I'm sorry," I say, my voice sounding unevened. "I shouldn't have...Like I said, mushy sex brain." I try to smile at him, but he seems rather unamused with me at the moment. "I just want less touching, less affection sometimes. You know? I just...I just want my date."

"Fine." His voice slices through the awkward silence and I cringe.

"Are you...Are you mad at me?"

"Nope."

"Are you sure?" I ask, just as he snaps, "I'm sure. Let's go."

We make our way downstairs in awkward silence, passing Ron, who glares over at Harry as he eats some leftovers Mum made up.

"Going out?" he asks Harry.

"Yup."

Okay, if even Ron can pick up on the way Harry's voice sounds, then it isn't just me, and Harry is still furious.

"What's the matter with you?" Ron asks him.

"Nothing," Harry snaps, glaring over at Ron. "I'm fine."

"Good luck Ron," I say.

"Oh, yeah, good luck, Ron," Harry says. His features soften considerably. "Where are you taking her again?"

"O'Malley's," Ron says. "It's where we had our first date." He chews some, and then says, "I hope she comes without her work..."

"I'm sure she will," I say. "It's Saturday."

"You'd be surprised," Ron replies.

"We should get going," I say. "We have reservations for seven-thirty."

"Right." Harry turns back to me, softness gone.

We floo into Diagon Alley and make our way through the streets in absolute silence, until we get to the Muggle streets of London. It is only then that I turn to Harry and say, "It's a lovely night."

His reply? "Mhmm."

I look away from him and sigh. I think I've honestly mucked up.

Harry and I make our way into the restaurant and take our seats. He holds out my chair for me and then sits across from me. He immediately flips open his menu and, after a seconds pause, I do the same. It doesn't matter what he said earlier, he's mad. I swallow thickly and look down at the words that swim before my eyes, not seeing any of them.

A part of me wonders if I should have stayed silent and let him shag me as much as he wants. Because, as I've come to know, I'm a thousand times more miserable without him, than with him. And haven't I dreamed about Harry wanted a relationship with me? Haven't I bargained and dreamed and prayed that Harry would kiss me again, that Harry would want to be with me forever? So, logically, what is the first thing I do? Complain. Ugh.

I shift the menu so that is lowered. I stare at Harry as he reads the menu. His eyes are scanning back and forth, from what I can see through the glare in his glasses. The fireplace and half the table in back of us are illuminated in the glass. His right hand comes up to scratch his nose and then goes back onto the table.

I clear my throat loudly, significantly, and look back up at him. He's still reading the menu, a slight frown on his face. I clear my throat again, louder. Still, he continues reading the menu, though, I swear I see the corners of his mouth turn up in the briefest of smiles. I fight a small smile myself and clear my throat so loudly and so clearly that it not only hurts my throat, but causes the woman at the table next to ours to look over at us briefly. Harry is definitly fighting a smile.

"Yes?" he says, not looking up. "Can I get you some water?"

"Can you look at me, please?" I say.

"Is that allowed?"

"Yes," I snap.

He does so. "Okay, just so I know, I am allowed to look at you. Wonderful. Talking to you is also acceptable, correct?"

"Yes." I glare over at him, but he takes no notice. He has the cockiest look on his face, which is so infuriating. I find any amusement with him from earlier quickly evaporating. "I don't need you to mock me," I snap.

"Mock you? I'm not mocking you," Harry says, sounding aghast. I can see that it is fake, however, and the surprise in his voice and face is an act. "I just want to make sure I'm not making any unwanted advances on you."

"You're being a prat," I snap. "You're taking what I said and twisting into something else. I didn't say I wanted you to stop talking or touching or _looking_ at me. All I said was I wanted to do something once in a while that didn't involve you inside of me."

"Are you ready to order?" a voice asks, interuppting us.

Harry and I both jump and turn to see the waiter in front of us. I immediately feel my cheeks ignite and drop my gaze back down to my menu. We both rattle off our orders and the menus are taken from us. We no longer have any shields, anything to distract us from each other. So, we mostly sit in silence. Not comfortable silence, not awkward silence. Angry silence.

Finally, he breaks his silence.

"I would just like to state for the record that I am not one who initiated sex all of the time. That would be you," he says, breaking some bread apart onto a plate, not looking up at me.

"OKay," I say, rolling my eyes. I fold my arms over my chest and shake my head, looking away from him.

"So maybe you should have had that talk with yourself before taking out all of your frustration out on me," Harry continues. I bite the inside of my cheek, hard, to stop words from spilling out. I focuse my attention on a picture on the wall and try to ignore everything he is saying so I don't explode in anger.

"Okay," I spit out.

"Just some things you might want to think about before you unleash your PMS on me," I hear Harry say and I suck in a deep breath and then let it out again. I think all of my anger is gone, until, "You think you can try and do that, sweety?"

"Okay, you know what?" I snarl, turning to face him, my blood boiling. "You can have dinner here by yourself tonight. I'm really not in the mood for this! My brother is ready to propose to his girlfriend, and my boyfriend won't even take me out to dinner!" I cry.

The woman next to us looks over at us again, and Harry does not look impressed by my outburst. He opens his mouth to respond, when our drinks are placed in front of us and we are assured our meals will follow shortly. The waiter leaves.

He opens his mouth to say something, but I beat him to it. "I'm sorry," I say. "I didn't mean to make it seem like it was all your fault, because it isn't. But then you started..._making fun of me_, and I just got angry." I shrug. "I just wanted dinner."

Harry is silent for a moment before he says, "Fine. Let's have dinner."

I nod over at him and we slowly and awkwardly begin conversation. By the time our food comes ten minutes later I have managed to get a small smile out of Harry, though he does so begrudgingly. By the time we are finished with our food, Harry is no longer giving me _the look_ at all and helps me out of my chair and into the warm air.

"Thank you, Harry," I say happily. "That was so lovely. Exactly what I wanted!" I smile over at him fondly as he leads me down the cobblestone streets. We round a corner and my mouth starts to water. My nostrils are assualted by the smell of chocolate and ice cream and pure, blissful sugar. Even as my stomach protests and begs me not to, I say, "Ice cream?"

Harry looks over at the small shop and shrugs. "OKay."

We go in and make our selections. As soon as we come out of the cool shop and hit the warm air, my ice cream begins to melt. It is now a race to finish it before it turns into liquid. Harry and I settle onto a park bench and people watch. It is about eight o'clock and the park is still filled with people. I manage to get most of my ice cream gone before melting becomes a real problem.

My eyes wander along the various couples on blankets, families with babies and owners with their dogs, throwing a toy through the air. Some are down by the lake, while others are further up on the grass. I turn my attention to a young couple, probably not much older than Harry and I. They are in their swim trunks and are watching the sunset. As I watch, the boy leans over and plants a kiss on the girl. The delight in her face is evident and I am forcibly reminded of the first few weeks of our relationship. All it took was a look or a kiss and I felt like the luckiest person on the planet. And now where am I? Sitting on the bench with my grumpy boyfriend. A grumpy boyfriend who I've hurt and offended. Oh, how times have changed.

"Harry," I say softly, turning to him. He has ice cream in the corner of his mouth and I wipe it off with my thumb. "You should take me home now."

"Why?" he asks.  
"Because I want to shag you."

There is a brief second of silence, in which he simply stares at me. He finally breaks it with, "Ha!" before going back to his ice cream without another word. I stare over at him before glancing back at the kissing couple. I miss that new, exciting feeling, but I can't help but love the comfortable feeling with Harry. I mean, only two people in love could act like we are acting with each other right now. Had I not known how much I loved Harry, and how much he loved me, the fact that he just laughed in my face when I asked for sex would have crushed me.

"What was that for?" I ask a moment later.

"Huh?"

"Ha!" I snap. "What was that?"

"I just think it's funny that you think I'm going to shag you tonight after all you said," Harry replies, finishing up his cone and wiping his hands on a napkin. "You're crazy."

"Excuse me?" I snap. "All you did all night was pout because we weren't having sex every second of the time we were together, and now that I offer it to you, you don't want to do it?"

"That's right," Harry says.

"Fine," I snap. "And maybe we don't do it tomorrow, either."

"Wonderful," Harry says jovially.

"Or the next night," I snarl.

"Great. When we get home I'll write it in my date book," Harry says.

"You're being such an arse!" I snap at him. "And a baby! I don't know why I even bother!"

"Oh, don't even," Harry replies. "You love me."

"For what reasons I don't know," I reply angrily. He is looking over at me in an amused manner.

"Probably because of the amazing sex and orgasms all you do is complain about," Harry replies. "You seem to like that very much."

It is my turn to cry, "Ha!" Harry gives me a side eye, and I can see he doesn't really believe me all that much. I can't really blame him, as every time we've ever had sex involves a lot of me informing him of how amazing he is. And it's not all fluff, either. The only way I can really achieve orgasm is with him, or thinking of him. It's always been like that.

I roll my eyes and shake my head, turning away from him again. The boy and girl are sitting together. Her back is to his chest and his right arms is dangling over her shoulder. Their fingers are intertwined. I frown at them angrily. Stupid couple.

"Do you see them?" I ask Harry, nudging him. He looks over at me and I point at the couple by the lake. "You never do that with me."

"What are you just staring at people out here?" Harry asks. "Want me to grab you a pair of binoculars?"

"Stop joking," I snap angrily. "Do you see them? She looks so happy, you know why? Because her boyfriend dates her."

"I date you, Ginny," Harry says in exasperation. When he sees the seriousness in my expression, he looks over at them. He looks back at me. "You know what I see? I see two people in that awkward stage of their relationship where they still aren't comfortable with one another. I remember how much I hated that part of our relationship."

"But that was when it was new and exciting!"

"Not for me it wasn't," Harry replies. "For me, it was scary and my palms sweated and I was always red in the face. I didn't like not feeling comfortable around you. I like where we are now. I like that you can have a complete meltdown, accuse me of treating you like a prostiture, and it doesn't make me hate you. I find it rather amusing, actually." My cheeks turn red.

"You didn't look amused earlier," I say.

"I was," he assures me. "Once I got over being infuriated."

"I said I was sorry," I say.

"And I accepted it," Harry replies.

"Fine," I say, sighing. "Take me home?"

"Sure, I'll take you home. Shag you? No effing way," he says, tossing his napking into a wastebasket. He turns to look at me expectantly and says, "Floo or Apparate?"

The heavyness in my stomach informs me that it is too far to walk back to the entrance of Diagon Alley to Floo home.

"Piggy-back," I say, tugging at his shirt and nudging closer to him. He scans our surroundings and jerks his head towards an alleyway to our left. I let him lead me to it, his hand around mine until we make our way into it. Thought it was dusk out, and still had some light, as soon as we enter the alley, it is an immediate darkness. I shiver slightly as Harry holds onto my hand tighter.

"Ready?" he asks and waits for my nod.

A moment later I am being sucked through air until I land shakily on my feet. Without even thinking about, without any prompting, Harry's arm stiffens, his hand clenching onto mine almost painfully. The result is that even as I jerk forward to fall on my face, I only get so far before he pulls me back up again. It has become second nature to him, something he has learned to do.

I give him a grateful smile and lead him into the house. Though there is soft lights from a few candles in the corner of the living room, the house is mostly dark. Mum and Dad will return in the morning from Romania where Charlie is packing up from. He plans to move back here before getting married and Mum and Dad went over to lend a hand. Well, Dad went over to lend a hand. Mum went over to fuss over his hair and weight, and to get a good look at the woman Charlie has been hiding away. They asked me to come along, but I declined, for good reason. I can't very well see and shag Harry if I'm all the way in Romania!

"Do you want to come upstairs?" I ask, turning to him.

"No thanks," he says. "I'm going to get going."

"Why?" I ask.

"You said earlier--"

"Oh, forget what I said earlier!" I snap. "All I asked from you was that you take me out on a date. You took me out on a date and now we're back."

"You were right, though," Harry says. "Maybe I was putting too much 'physical pressure' on you. I'll just see you in a couple of days and we'll discuss how we're going to go about the relationship from there. Now, I forgot my cloak upstairs, I'll just--"

"I'll get it," I snap. "You stay down here."

I turn on my heel and hurry up the stairs angrily. Is he going to punish me for what I said for the rest of our lives? I know a part of him is teasing me, but the other part is angry with me. I can't blame him. I reacted like a lunatic earlier, accusing him of crazy things. I realize how he could have been hurt by what I said. And maybe I'm being a little hypocritical in his eyes, but I never said I never wanted to have sex with him again. I was just so high-strung with what I allowed my brain to cook-up, that Harry bursting in immediately wanting sex seemed to confirm my worst thoughts. And I feel badly about it, but he won't allow my apology to sink in.

I grab his cloak off of my bed and sigh heavily. I am about to leave the room when I stop short. I think hard for a second before coming to a conclusion. I can do one of two things: Cry hysterically and hope that it makes him feel bad, or seduce him. Both would work just fine, but number one would probably leave him a little angry with me.

I hurry over to my top drawer and pull out a pair of knickers I bought last week. Knickers he has not seen yet. I quickly pull them on and then put my shirt and skirt back on. With his cloak in my hand and a bottle of firewhiskey that I swiped from Ron's room earlier, I head down the stairs. Harry looks up at me and seems rather surprised to see me.

"I thought you had fallen asleep," he says, accepting his cloak from me. "Well, good night, then..."

"Harry," I say, touching his arm, "you don't really have to go, okay? I get it, you're angry at some of the things I said. You...don't have to act like this, though. I'm still your girlfriend. Your girlfriend who comes bearing gifts." I hold up the bottle of firewhiskey (which I know for a fact is the one thing that really gets Harry to shut down all barriers). Harry looks at it for a second before slowly putting his cloak on the chair in front of him.

We settle onto the couch after I grabbed two shot glasses from the cupboard. They aren't traditional shot glasses, as Mum would never allow it. But they are small enough to do the job, and I think Mum uses them as a measurement when cooking.

I pour us each a shot and we down them. It burns the back of my throat like crazy and I make a series of faces before I calm down. Harry has a better poker face than I do, and can take the shots without much emotion. We do not do much talking, but after the third shot Harry is quite eager to go, and I know why. I can barely stomach three shots without being compeltely smashed, but Harry is only tipsy by the third shot. Tipsy and completely vulnerable to any advance I might like to make.

With two shots in me, and with four shots in Harry (two regular, and two reluctant), I find myself placing the bottle on the table and settle back into the couch. I can feel the heat in my cheeks and the slight spin the room seems to be in. The couch is so comfortable, I could sink right through the cushions. I smile over at Harry a huge, wide smile and he gives me a cautious look, his resolve weakening by the second.

I turn my head to the left and let it rest slightly against the soft cushions. Harry is looking at me intently and I pick my head up and slowly start edging closer to him until our lips are almost touching. I can smell the firewhiskey on his breath, which I'm sure he can smell on mine. Before I can do anything, he reaches out with his left hand. Four of his fingers slide into my hair, causing goosebumps, as his thumb rests against my temple. We stare at each other for a moment.

"You hurt my feelings," he says into the silence.

"I'm sorry," I say desperately.

"I forgive you," he replies and closes the gap between us, kissing me.

It's all quite fuzzy. I can't help but display that silly little grin on my face as Harry pulls me onto his lap. I'm not a mean drunk, or a sloppy drunk. I'm a smiley drunk. I will smile at anything, but it isn't a happy smile. It's simply a huge, goofy, drunken smile, the only way to describe it.

I languish Harry's neck with kisses, which makes him elicit the sexiest sounds into the silent house. They're the only sounds, really, besides our slight movements or a breathed command from either of us. He lets his head rest against the couch and I continue to kiss all around his neck, up to his ear. I take his earlobe between my teeth for a brief second before releasing it and heading north again. When I reach his scar I plant a small kiss on it. Harry told me that he doesn't really have any feeling in it anymore, but the first time I ran my tongue along the length of it he nearly exploded. It wasn't really that the sensation was so great, but rather the fact that I'd even want to touch him there. The only time Harry says he gets any real feeling in his scar is when he's feeling intense amounts of fear, joy, sadness, etc. Like now, I suppose. I run my tongue along the length of it and his hips buck against mine. He brings my lips down to his.

As we kiss, I bring my hands inbetween us and get his belt unbuckled. I impatiently pull his zipper down and reach inside his jeans. I take ahold of him and watch an immediate change come over Harry. His breathing starts coming quicker and faster, in the same tempo as my strokes. His eyes fly open and look at me in such a startled, awe-filled way.

After a few moments of this, in which his moans fill the house, I stop and lean back slightly. Harry's eyes fly open and look at me as I yank my knickers to the side and settle back down on top of him. We both cry out and begin rocking in two different rhythms. We both laugh and stop, and he begins to move my hips and then moves with me.

When we're finished, I collapse against him. My shirt is slightly damp and I am out of breath. Harry nudges his nose against mine and I smile down at him before kissing him. He shifts my hair to the side and kisses at my neck before his head flops against the back of the couch. He looks completely sated and sleepy.

"Don't fall asleep," I say, running a hand through his hair.

"Hmm?" he asks, his eyes still closed.

"Come upstairs with me," I say.

"I'm tired," he insists.

"We'll get a sobering charm and you'll be as good as new," I say, nuzzling his neck. I jerk my hips for emphasis and he moans. "Plus, you can't very well sleep on this couch, can you?"

"No," he says and cracks an eye open. "I guess I can't."

He follows me up the stairs and as soon as we get to my bedroom and close the door over, he plops onto my bed. I reach for my wand and press it against my temple. I mutter the sobering charm and immediately feel the warm, liquidy feeling leave my body. I haven't thought this clear in a long time. I then press my wand against Harry's temple and do the same. He shakes his head and then smiles at me.

"You're pretty good at this," he says.

I smile happily at him and lean over and kiss him.

We lay together on the bed, kissing, for I don't know how long. He pulls back from me and sweeps some of my hair behind my ear. I smile. This is what I really wanted. Hot, rushed sex is always nice. It's straight to the point, you're both happy and it's all over within five to ten minutes. However, it doesn't leave time for this, lounging around on my bed, kissing, touching, nuzzling. I miss having an hour to make love. It isn't Harry's fault, and it isn't my fault. The fact remains that because we do not live together, and, most importantly, we live with other people, sometimes it comes down to: shag now, and quickly, or do not shag at all.

"Take your trousers off," I breath in his ear, though I am already furiously working the buckle of his pants. "I want to give you something." He suddenly springs into action and gets his trousers off in less than a second. I fight off a smile.

I can still remember how nervous and frightened I was to do this the first time. I was convinced I was doing it wrong, and it didn't help that Harry is nearly silent during sex. I didn't realize until he told me, that he was completely embarrassed and nervous, just like me, which is why he pretty much kept his mouth closed for the first ten minutes. It wasn't until I kept pulling back to ask him if I was doing alright, or if he wanted me to try something else, that he finally spoke up.

"Ginny," he finally said, sitting up on his elbows and looking at me. "Either talk to me or...do that. You can't do both, and I can't do both."

"Well, just tell me this: Does it feel okay?"

I guess I couldn't tell from his flushed face and damp skin how much he liked it. So, he said, "Ginny, it feels bloody fucking fantastic."

"Really?" I asked, delightedly.

"Yeah."

After our little chat, he started making some noise, and his hand found its way into my hair, giving me the confidence to continue. All I needed to know was that I was doing it right, or at least doing something that felt vaguely good.

I slide up the bed and am about to plant a kiss on him, when we hear the front door slam so hard, it vibrates all the way up here. Harry and I suddenly spring apart as we hear shouting coming from downstairs. He looks around bewildered as I yank my skirt back up.

"What is all that bloody racket?" he snaps, smoothing down his hair. He catches the shirt I toss at him and quickly puts it on. "How do I look?"

"Like your shag got interupted," I snap, opening my door and peeking out. I can't see anyone, but I can't certainly hear them. "For the love of Merlin," I say to Harry, "it's Ron and Hermione."

"Go tell them to shut up," Harry says.

"Listen, we'll just go down, difuse the situation, come back up and continue with what we were doing," I suggest. "Come on."

We head down the stairs and the shouting gets louder and louder until we are finally in the kitchen. Hermione and Ron are squared off at one another, each red in the face. For a second I am forcibly reminded of their Hogwarts fights, but quickly stumble during my trip down memory lane when they start yelling even louder. I can barely get the gist of what they're screaming.

"What is going on?" I snap. "You...woke us up!"

They seem not to hear me because Ron shouts, "You can't go without work for ten bloody seconds! All I asked from you was a night out that didn't involve talking to you through a manilla folder!"

"I said I was sorry a million times, you prat!" Hermione shouts. "But my work is important! What I do has an impact and I can't just slack off!"

"Slack off?" Ron snaps. "It's nine o'clock on a Saturday night! You get the weekends off! Just admit that you fancy your stupid job more than me."

"Don't be such a baby! And stop calling my work stupid! I put a lot of time and effort into my job, and I will not be ashamed to take pride in it!"  
"Take pride! Make bloody shirts for all I care! Oh, and as for making a difference, let me say this for the last fucking time: Those bloody elves want you to leave them the hell alone! They don't want socks being hidden in their cleaning supplies, they don't want money as weekly payments and they don't want to be liberated. How about you put all your time and effort into something that will actually matter!"

Harry and I turn to look at each other. I can literally feel the seconds counting down before Hermione explodes. I see that her hands are clenched into fists at her side, her knuckles a bright white. Her fists are shaking and she's glaring over at Ron with such an intensity that I expect if she had her wand in her hand there would be balls of fire shooting out.

"Take. It. Back," is all Hermione says half a minute later.

Ron cocks his eyebrow at her and then says, just as evenly, "No."

"Ron, if you ever want to see me again, you will take back every word you just said!" Hermione snarls.

"Who says I want to see you again?" Ron counters. "The past few times we've actually been together have included a dinner for three: Me, you and a nice stack of paperwork. I haven't been enjoying your company lately."

"I'm leaving," Hermione spits out and begins walking around the table towards the fireplace.

I open my mouth to say something, to stop her from leaving, for I do not know what will happen if she does, when Ron snaps, "Oh, here. I got this for you, but seeing as you've ruined the whole night and I can't get my money back, you mine as well have this--" He tosses the little velvet box across the room. Hermione catches it cleanly, though looks slightly surprised.

She stiffens when she stares down at the box and it takes her a moment or so to collect herself and flip the top of the box open. When she sees what is inside of the box she presses the fingers of her right hand to her lips. She looks up at Ron and then bursts into tears.

Ron, to his credit, looks horrified at her reaction. He turns to Harry, seeming to notice us for the first time and silently calls for help with his eyes, which Harry instantly shoots down. Ron sighs.

"Don't _cry_, Hermione," Ron says softly. He inches closer to her.

"Well, what did you expect, you prat?" Hermione snaps. "Are you giving this to me? Are you...are you asking me to marry you?"

"Erm...yes. I planned to do it better, properly..." Ron inches closer and closer until he is standing right in front of her. "I had some very nice things to say, but I can't really remember what they are."

Hermione sniffles. "It's okay!"

"I love you and I want to be with you for the rest of my life," Ron says. "And, despite the bloody awful proposal, if you would be willing to, I'd like to marry you." He sighs. "I'm cocking it all up, aren't I?"

Hermione shakes her head and laughs. "No. You're doing just fine!"

Ron takes the ring from the little box in her hand and holds it up to her. "Hermione, will you marry me?"

Hermione laughs nervously and says, "Yes! I can't believe this is actually happening," she says softly as the ring slides onto her finger. She looks down at it and then Ron wraps her into a hug.

When he places her back down on her feet he says, "I promise to never talk to you like that again."

"And I promise to not bring my work home with me anymore," Hermione comprimises and kisses him. She stares down at her ring.

"Let's leave them alone," I mutter to Harry and we begin to inch up the stairs.

It isn't until we are back in my room with the door shut, that we turn to each other and burst into laughter. We just witnessed the fight, dissiloution, make-up and engagment in our friends' relationship, all in the span of seven minutes.

We lay back down on my bed and Harry pulls me over until I am half laying on him, my cheek pressed against his chest.

"So," I say.

"So," he says.

"I guess they're engaged," I say softly. It seems so unreal still, so grownup. I wonder if it would seem different if I hadn't seen it happen, or, rather, how it happened. However, the way it happened is exactly how it should have happened. It reflected their relationship perfectly. They fight and scream and nearly break-up, but forgive each other within seconds. That is how you know their relationship is strong. Some may argue that a strong relationship is one without any conflict, but I disagree. You need fights sometimes. There are times when you can only say things in the heat of the moment. Harry and I have only gotten into one fight so far, and I'm glad that we did and then moved past it. Now I know we can fight and yell and scream at one another, but that he still loves me all the same.

"They're engaged," Harry confirms. There is a beat of silence. "We should have congratulations sex."

"I was thinking the same thing," I say, leaning up to kiss him.

* * *

A/N: Okay, much more to come. This was kind of a fluff chapter, but I'll have better chapters later. There will definitly be more plot, as this story will follow Harry and Ginny up until (and one-shots after) they have Roe, from Growing Up Potter.

Sorry for the wait. I wrote a non-fanfiction story as a present to a friend for her birthday, so that took up much of my time. And my muse (the whore that she is) seems to have lost her patience and gone elsewhere. Hopefully I'll be able to concentrate. I have everything worked out and it is all just a matter of getting it done.

I don't know if anyone cares (or if this is allowed) but I recently got addicted to blogging. If anyone wanted to check out my blog that would be amazeballs. Follow this link:bighairbigmouth (dot) blogspot (dot) com

Also, any and all thoughts/comments/bitching about the story would be lovely. I hate to shamelessly beg for reviews, but it's the only thing that seems to work, and it simply gets me motivated. :) Hope everyone is having a lovely end of the summer. I, however, am already back in school. Blah.


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